Pyrite
by drarrysexual
Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy is having a hard time adjusting to his new lifestyle. When life gets at its worst, he decides his best chance at success is through the world's oldest profession. Slight AU.
1. Chapter 1

_A man has got to eat_. That was the thought that kept him going, surviving. He had to eat - he had to make a living somehow. If he didn't, he'd end up on the street or worse - begging his blood traitor relatives to take him in so that he could properly repair himself now that the war was over. And that was honestly a fate worse than death. No, he was best the way he was, no matter how degrading the position he had taken up actually was. After all, what other choice did he have? In the Wizarding world, he wasn't going to go anywhere. His name, once what kept him going in the only home he'd ever known, was now his downfall, the thing that would keep him from progressing into the successful life he had always dreamed of. They'd be looking for anything at all to incriminate him - anything to stick him in Azkaban with his mother and father. Trying to make it in that life...it wasn't going to happen for him. Not for Draco Malfoy. Not anymore.

The Muggle world, though, despite his best efforts, hadn't been much kinder to him when he decided to enter it and abandon the Wizarding world for good. The name 'Malfoy' meant nothing to anyone and while that was significantly better than the reaction he got in the Wizarding world, it didn't necessarily do him any favors. His first few weeks in Muggle London were spent in cheap hotels, paid for with the little bit of money the Ministry allowed him to take out of Gringotts that month (converted into Muggle currency, of course). He tried his hardest to track down a job then, but everywhere he looked told him that they weren't hiring or that he wasn't qualified enough. He debated going to Muggle university and trying to earn a job the proper way, decided against it, and eventually gave in to the idea of living in crappy Muggle hotels until he either used up the Malfoy fortune his family had acquired through the years or died. A fitting end for a man who had caused so much strife in the past few years.

This mindset lasted about two weeks before Draco finally snapped. He was NOT going to live like a hermit and plebeian for the rest of his life. He absolutely _refused_. Desperate and frustrated, he wasted the lot of his money at a bar one night so that he could drink and put his woes on another man's shoulders. That's when he'd first heard about it - prostitution. He, of course, was familiar with the term. It was hard not to be, growing up not only as a Slytherin but as the son of a man who housed many a sleazy Death Eater in his days. However, he'd never considered it as a profession for himself. It was just too...well too _dirty_ and he'd told the barman he was speaking to so at the suggestion.

"I'm just sayin'," the bartender replied with a shrug to show he meant no harm, "I know a few guys who'd pay good money for someone with a mug like yours. But it's a messy business. It ain't for everyone. Damn shame." He had surveyed Draco's face then with a look of hunger the young wizard recognized well, and Draco realized then that this guy was serious. He really though Draco could make a decent living as a male escort.

"Well, it's not very high end, this job," he told the bartender, who just snorted. "At least not where I come from..."

"You mean the land of men who pay for little hussies to satisfy them on a business trip?" the man replied. "Women throw themselves away so easily and for so cheap...because it's expected, y'know? That's our society. It's there, it's affordable, and it's socially acceptable. But you don't really think _women_ buy men, do you?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well, some will. The weirdos and the desperate. No, kid, the real draw is the closeted fag going behind his wife's back - the businessman, the politician, what have ya. He'll pay big for a male escort because he ain't just paying you for a service. He's paying you to keep a secret. At least, that's what he'll be told if you work for the right bloke."

The younger man didn't reply straight away. He just drank and thought about the bartender's words. A high-end hooker, huh? It wasn't on top of the list of things he wanted to accomplish in his life, but he supposed all his dreams of the future had been shattered anyway. All his hopes of being a Healer, of righting the wrongs of his family, were gone now, tossed out the window by his ugly reputation and uglier past. Really, what other opportunity was going to present itself to him? The Muggle world was foreign to him, and he hadn't been able to find a job for the month or two he'd been seeking refuge in it. And the Wizarding world...they'd never take him back. Especially not to give him a better quality of life. This seemed like his best bet for improving the life that he'd been forced into, for survival. It was dirty work - but he supposed he wouldn't mind if he were properly taken care of. Sex wasn't unfamiliar to him and was a pastime he rather enjoyed partaking in. He wasn't going to pretend like he hadn't hooked up with guys like Blaise or Theo in his time at Hogwarts. And if he got money for it...

"And you mean to tell me you think I could do this...job?"

"Well you'd have to cut the professional shit since it don't exactly turn people on, but as long as you kept your mouth shut when they want you to..." The bartender shrugged again. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Draco learned forward, taking a deep breath. He was desperate. That was the only reason he was doing this. He exhaled slowly, looked the bartender in the eye, and said, "Where, exactly, could I find the right bloke to work for?"

The bartender grinned a toothy grin, wrote down a name and address, and sent Draco on his way with the lovely departing message of, "If you have trouble finding customers, you know where to find me." The man shuddered at the idea, paid his tab, and made his way out of the bar before glancing down at the name the bartender had scratch down for him.

_Nick_.

* * *

><p>He went to find this 'Nick' not long after leaving the Muggle pub. Dignified as he tried to be, he was desperate for money, any money, and he knew trying to negotiate with Gringotts was completely out of the question. They'd never listen to him. If he ever wanted to escape those shitty hotels and still afford to eat, he needed to get a job - quickly. And so far, this Nick person was his best bet. The alcohol in his system probably wasn't helping his judgment much then either, though, but he figured that was best. People had a habit of finding a way to survive when they were most desperate, and what was more desperate than being practically homeless, jobless, penniless, and drunk?<p>

He had to admit, though - for a pimp, this Nick seemed to be doing very well for himself. His house was large, ornately decorated in a very nice neighborhood with neighbors with equally impressive homes, and Draco wondered for a moment if he lived in that big house of his all alone. _Probably_, he finally decided after standing outside it for a few minutes. _Lucky bastard._

He looked down once more at the note the bartender had given him, noticing this time the words at the bottom. _Tell him Geoff sent you_. Geoff. A fitting enough name for a bar man and friend of a pimp, Draco decided, before grabbing the brass knocker on the door and rapping it several times.

It took a few minutes for the door to be opened, but when it was, Draco was very surprised to see a familiar face staring at him curiously.

"_Scabior_?" he said incredulously, and the former Snatcher grinned.

"'Ello, beautiful," he said. "Fancy seeing you 'ere."

Draco wasn't sure how to answer. When they had found Scabior to work for them during the war, he had been begging for scraps on the street. Surely, in the two months that had passed since the war, he didn't build up so much money or that much of a reputation from scratch. He must have been lying to them his entire employment, the dirty rat. Though Draco wasn't sure why he was so surprised - he wasn't there to talk real, respectable business with the guy, now was he? Finally, though, he realized that he had to answer, so he simply said, "Geoff sent me. I didn't realize you were so acquainted with Muggles."

A flicker of recognition and then annoyance went across Scabior's face, but his expression was quickly twisted back to his usual smirk, as though he was trying to remain businesslike. "Oh, Geoff sent you, did 'e?" he asked, his tone almost mocking. "I see that I could say the very same thing about you, Mister Malfoy." Draco mumbled quietly about needing a home and job searching, about fitting in and lying low, but Scabior just laughed in disbelief. "Well if you're 'ere for a job, I'm not gonna refuse a pretty face. Come on in, love. Let's talk _business_."

Draco felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, his body tense as Scabior grabbed him by the waist and pulled him inside, allowing the door to fall closed behind them. "Do loosen up," the former Snatcher said, fingers digging almost possessively into the blond's side as he led him further into the large house. "If you don't let yourself get touched, you won't do me any good 'ere." With that in mind, Draco tried to loosen his muscles, but he didn't lean into Scabior's touch and he certainly didn't allow for his guard to go down. He'd known that this was a dirty business to get into, but a dirty business led by a man like this? That was a different story entirely. Scabior wasn't like the common pimp that Draco could try to overpower if he wanted. Scabior was a wizard, and while he was a rather mediocre wizard, he still had more of a weapon on him than Draco, who had taken to locking his wand away and stowing it beneath his bed. That alone was enough to scare the Malfoy, and he didn't want the man to catch him off guard while he was in his rather impressive house.

"So, Draco," Scabior said, leading his guest into his sitting room, "tell me. 'Ow did you end up 'ere? I never thought I'd see that lovely mug o' yours again." He pushed the other man backwards onto the couch, taking the seat next to him with a wicked smile planted on his face. "'Specially not to come 'round askin' little ol' me for a job. 'Ave we fallen on some harder times, love?" Draco felt his stomach twist, felt his guts turning over inside of him, but he kept his face blank and his eyes clear of emotion as he was habitually used to after years of practice. He was not going to let Scabior know that his choice words were getting to him.

"You know as well as I do that I'm not very welcome at home anymore," he said flatly. "None of our old lot are. The only thing keeping me out of Azkaban is that I left." His eyes flickered up and down the appearance of his old acquaintance. "Which reminds me...how did _you_ escape incarceration?"

"It ain't exactly 'ard to do, love," Scabior laughed. "Little bit of a lie 'ere, tales of coercion and Imperius curses there...if ya ask me, they were lookin' for excuses to let us all off. Must be expensive to keep us all in one place like that." Draco clenched his teeth, but couldn't find a proper response to that. Of course, those who were the dirtiest among them were let free while those threatened with their lives rotted away in a cell. He'd obviously forgotten that the world was always fair and balanced and uncorrupted. How _silly_ of him. If Scabior sensed his annoyance, though, he didn't show it. "So tell me, Mr. Malfoy - what did Geoffy 'ere tell ya? That the life is glamorous? That you'll make lots o' money? That pretty ladies were going to be lookin' out for ya? I'm curious - what brings a Malfoy here when I understand you got a sizable fortune waitin' for ya in a vault back 'ome?"

"The Ministry isn't allowing me my gold," Draco said, annoyance seeping into his already cold tone. "They only let me take out so much a month. Like they're afraid if I get too much I'll be able to pay scum like you to work for me again." He saw the frown appear on Scabior's face, but he didn't let it phase him. That's what he got for reminding Draco of home. "It's not enough to live on, of course. I'll probably lose my room within the week since I spent most of my next payment talking to your friend." This seemed to grab hold of Scabior's interest, and Draco leaned forward to address him more fully while he still had the man's focus. "The kind of business you do is dirty," he told him, "I'm not an imbecile. I know it is. But from what...Geoff tells me, you can get me good pay. If it means taking weirdos to bed or a cock up the arse, I am willing to do it. A Malfoy can't live on the tiny sum of money that I'm receiving, and nowhere else will hire me. Not after the things that I did and assisted with during the war. And if you pay me in Muggle money, you're not breaching any contracts. I just...I need the money, Scabior. Badly."

Scabior scanned his face, probably searching for a hint of a lie, for anything to tell him that Draco was being dishonest. All that he found, though, was desperation and frustration, two things that were usually what brought his workers to him. He frowned. Though he knew he could make money off Draco - _lots_ and lots of money, a pretty face and body like that - he had a bad feeling about this. From what he knew about the Malfoys, they weren't very submissive and weren't happy to be taken advantage of. Draco would have to deal with both if he did give him the job, and he was not going to lose business because the blond felt like acting like a little princess. There was a test, of course, to see if Draco could take whatever was thrown at him as long as there was the promise of money, but Scabior wasn't a big fan of sampling his own wares, especially not when they happened to be former employers. But he supposed if there was no other way...

"Oi," Draco said, trying to scramble away as Scabior suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrists, "what do you think you're-?"

"Shut _up_, Draco, please don't make this difficult," Scabior said as he pinned the boy's body down with his own. "Consider this your job application, alright, love? And do me a favor - call me Nick."

Draco's heart was pounding. He wasn't serious, right? He wasn't seriously going to make Draco do this, make him give up something like that so easily so soon without even promising him a job...right? He wouldn't dare try with Draco so tense. He'd hurt him. It seemed that he would still continue with the risk of damaging him, though, as he held Draco's arms back firmly, settling himself more comfortably on top of him while the younger man just stared and took it. If this was Scabior's idea of attempted intimidation, he wasn't going to let him win. He wasn't going to let him know how unsettled he was.

"Think you can handle this, love?" Scabior said as he lowered his face down to the blond's. "I ain't gonna be the only one to pin you so easily if you're serious about this." Draco stared blankly back, almost challenging him, and the older man tightened his hold on Draco's wrists. "I asked you a question, Draco. I suggest you answer it."

"I'm not afraid of you," was his response, and Scabior laughed, nudging the boy's nose with his own.

"I'm afraid that wasn't what I asked, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "But I'll take it." Then he crushed his lips to Draco's, his domineering mouth not even giving Draco enough time to assess what was happening before forcing his tongue behind his teeth, intruding his mouth in the most intimate of ways and causing Draco's eyes to widen. His first impulse was to bring his arm around to knock himself free, but Scabior's hold was firm. He was stronger than Draco had anticipated, and he felt the other man smile against his lips when Draco's arms begin to struggle against him. "That's not gonna work, love," he said, seemingly amused, before attacking Draco's mouth with another bruising kiss. The boy whimpered, the first sign of fear he allowed through, but he eventually got his body to respond the way Scabior wanted - submissively. He relaxed his body to fit into the contours of Scabior's own, giving into his kiss and offering some inkling of recuperation. Satisfied, the older man ducked to attack Draco's neck with nips and bites that were sure to leave bruises, but Draco didn't make a sound, didn't even let himself be afraid. He took himself to a different place, a different time, where this was normal and where he could pretend this was something he had agreed to engage in. It made it much easier for him to cope with, and he let out a quiet growl of contentment as Scabior found the hollow of his neck and kissed it. If he just ignored who it was...pretended it was Blaise or some other earlier fling...that would be enough, that could get him react.

"Shirt off," Scabior said simply in response to the sound of Draco's quiet noises of satisfaction, and Draco felt his hands get released so that he could unbutton his shirt while Scabior pulled at his belt buckle, lips never leaving his neck. By the time he'd gotten his shirt fully off, the older man had unhooked his belt and unbuckled his jeans and his hands were now exploring the body beneath him. Draco moaned softly as skilled hands brushed the most sensitive areas of his body, sending the first fires of arousal blazing through him. Any further sounds he could have made, though, were silenced by the presence of Scabior's mouth on his own once more, and he finally got into the rhythm of what was happening when Scabior moved his trousers and boxers down his hips, fully exposing him. The former Snatcher pulled away from Draco then, his hand going down to take hold of the younger man's prick, stroking him to full arousal while Draco writhed beneath him, trying to keep his moans few and quiet. Horny or not, it wasn't dignified to make a lot of noise, and Scabior nearly laughed at the realization that Draco was still trying to be dignified and a hooker at the same time - but he didn't let his demeanor slip. He had to keep his air of dominance.

"I am going to take you at your most indecent," he growled, and the look on Draco's face was enough fuel to keep this going. "I am going to make you do the dirtiest things you can think of and then some, and you are going to do them happily. Do you know why?" Draco let out a strangled groan. "Tell me why I'm able to do this to you, love. Why are you assistin' lil' ol' me?"

"Because I'm a whore," Draco said back, his voice strained in his attempt to keep it under control. He was panting by that point, sweat beginning to appear on his brow as Scabior continued to tease him, but he dare not say or do anything else, dare not beg in case that little slip up cost him his job. Scabior grinned.

"That you are. And it is not your place to object."

Then he pushed away from the young blond, standing up and straightening his robes. "I'll pass the first customer who asks for a bloke onto you," he said as Draco stared up at him, obviously confused. "And you better be as damn submissive to them..." He trailed off, not wanting to sound angry. "If you need a room," he said, "you can take one of mine. 'Til ya build yourself up more and get yourself a proper 'ome. Down the hall right there-" He pointed and Draco's eyes followed, "-and to the left. Two doors down." He looked back down at the blond, lying mostly naked save for the trousers around his knees, still in a state of full arousal, looking good enough to eat. He pursed his lips. "I suggest you compose yourself and get to bed."

Then he was gone, walking away from him as quickly and suddenly as he had pounced on him, and Draco was left, dazed and confused, to take care of himself and get ready for bed. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask - what the hell that was about, for one, how long he was welcome to stay, if he should move his possessions into the house or not - but he decided against calling Scabior back. The look he'd given him before he departed was enough to make him shiver and though he was feeling as though he'd shag anyone by that point if they approached him, the idea of being dominated by a past employee was less than pleasant. He was grateful that the man had walked away.

Three years later, Draco wouldn't have those same fears. Three years later, Draco would be willing to shag anyone, everyone, if it meant keeping the lifestyle he'd built up under Scabior's employment. Three years later, Draco wouldn't care if he was submissive or dominant or what weird shit anyone tried to get him to do.

Because three years later, Draco was one of Scabior's most successful employees and three years later, Draco was still as determined to live in a nice house with a lot of food and servants like he was used to as he was the first time he walked through Scabior's door. The only difference now was that he had lost something that had held him back for many years. He had lost his pride.


	2. Chapter 2

Living in the Muggle world, Draco was coming to find, wasn't so bad. They (Muggles, that was) had a lot of things that the Wizarding world did not - Internet, mobile telephones, good music, to name a few. Things that were useful and handy. Things that not only made Draco's job that much easier because of quick communication but also just made life in genearl that much more entertaining. While he did miss Quidditch - oh, he missed Quidditch more than anything else in the world - and the ability to use magic to do simple things (clean the house, do the laundry, cook his food) and hex his enemies (he had decided not to use his wand unless he was one hundred percent positive he was alone, something Scabior had allowed very begrudgingly), he eventually decided that life was a little easier as a Muggle. He didn't have to constantly be on guard for fear of being hexed, he didn't have to fear damage coming to his wand, he didn't have to live with everyone looking down at him for his name, and he was finally able to just...exist. It was amazing, freeing, to be rid of his last name's reputation at last.

Because no one in this world knew. When he went to the grocery store and the cashier greeted him with, "It's nice to see you, Mr. Malfoy," he liked that the smile didn't look forced and the name was said without bitterness. He enjoyed that people enjoyed being around him, and though he always had to lie to people eventually by telling them that he was an entrepreneur instead of his true job, he still felt far more honest than he had ever been when he was living back at the Manor. He was able to just be...Draco. Still sarcastic and somewhat bitter, but happier. Less stressed. The regular sex probably helped with that, too, though he'd hardly call it "sex" sometimes and though he occasionally got some really weird guys with interesting fetishes, Scabior was very good about only getting him men who could afford him, while passing on the seedier characters to the men and women he cared a lot less about. Draco was well taken care of, well paid, and he lived extremely well, with a flat of his own and then his own room to stay at in Scabior's house when he was feeling particularly bored. Not to mention, he had developed a weird sort of camaraderie with his boss. He wouldn't call the pair of them _friends_ by any means, but it was a lot more than just a pimp and his rent boy. They talked, laughed, drank together and even sometimes..._hung out_. It was probably expected, since they had a past in working together, but Draco still found it pleasantly odd to have a relationship like that in his life. He'd never really had an actual friend before.

However, he wouldn't pretend that the life was glamorous. A lot of the time, it wasn't. It was just a lot of sweat and grunts and "Oh God what will my wife think?" whiners that didn't pay him enough to put up with their bitching before, during, and after sex. Sometimes the men were violent; other times they were a little too soft. A lot of the time he got hurt because they were none too gentle, and when the only person you're thinking about is yourself, the other person getting pounded into didn't matter, no matter how often they hissed in pain. And then there was the fact that he still _felt_ broken, even if he didn't look it. He had gone from one submissive shitty job to another, only this one was more degrading and far less public. Even after three years, each job made him feel less and less like a Malfoy, less and less like a _human being_, and he oftentimes found himself shut up in his room at Scabior's place, reading and trying to forget that any of the cruel parts of his life existed.

And he was in this room, forgetting, when Scabior came knocking on the door, a cell phone pressed to his ear and his best business face put on.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure I can get you someone well worth your money," he was saying, and Draco raised his eyebrows. It looked like he wasn't going to have a boring night in after all. "'Ow does an hour soun-Okay, okay, that can work. Just gimme a second." He then pulled the phone away from his face and said in a hushed tone, "Draco, I'm gonna need you at another 'otel. I'm makin' the most I can off o' this one." He looked incredibly amused, probably very happy at the fact that he was able to make Draco put his plans of laziness aside with just a few words.

The blond rolled his eyes. "What hotel, what suite, what time?"

"Your favorite, fourth floor in room 427, 'alf an hour."

Half an hour? That gave him barely enough time to get over there. "Do I have to pick up a key?"

"I 'ave one already. Came in...in the post."

Well that was...interesting, especially coupled with the weird and somewhat gleeful smile that had made its way onto Scabior's features. Though, he shouldn't be surprised - people went to weird lengths to ensure that absolutely no one knew what was going on and Nick loved to bask in such oddities. "Odd one, this customer?"

"You'll see," Scabior grinned before putting the phone back to his ear. "'Alf an hour it is, sir. Pleasure doing business." He then hung up, reached into his pocket, and tossed a hotel key at Draco with that same amused look on his face that he'd given the blond before. "Don't keep 'im waiting, Draco. He's a rich one. Very special."

Draco grabbed the hotel key, letting out a breath. Though he knew the words "day off" didn't really apply in his occupation, he had really been hoping that that was what he was finally going to get. A break. He planned on inviting a few friends he'd made through bar hopping over for dinner the following day and while he was accustomed to late nights, it would have been great to be well-rested for them. But rich men willing to give him a quick fix who went to great lengths to keep it secret usually meant an interesting story, and he was not going to turn that down. So with one last curious glance at Scabior, he grabbed his jacket and was off.

* * *

><p>Draco had never really mastered the art of driving, but luckily for him, the taxi service never seemed to fail him when he wanted to get to a customer on time. He got to the hotel within twenty minutes, paid the taxi driver, and walked up to the hotel, as casually as if he went there every day - which, really, wasn't far off from the truth. A few of the smarter employees who had caught on in the three years Draco had been around hid smiles behind paperwork as he walked in, but they didn't dare say a word - Scabior was a man even the Muggles knew not to mess with. On top of that, they all liked seeing Draco come around a few times a week. It was fun just to stare at him no charge, even if he always gave them the same scowl when they were caught.<p>

The elevator was empty when Draco got to it, and when the door closed after he pressed on the number four that indicated the desired floor, Draco mourned for a moment over the loss of Apparition. Though taxi services and elevators made life just fine and dandy in the Muggle world, it was still much much slower than getting to wherever he wanted with nothing more than a faint _pop_. He wished more than anything to have that back so that he could have had at least thirty minutes more time of rest, but he didn't dare try such magic in public - it was easy to lie his way out of, sure, but if Scabior ever found out about it, he'd be worse than dead. It was best for him to play it safe. As the elevator _finally_ came to a halt on the fourth floor, though, Draco couldn't help but think that his job must be at least ten times easier in the Wizarding world. At least it would take far less time for each session to begin and end.

He arrived at the room five minutes earlier than he planned, though if he knew the sort of people who required his services, the man he was seeing would not mind at all. Punctuality wasn't exactly the first thing on their minds. Draco closed the door behind him softly, and then listened intently for any sign of where he was supposed to go. The suites most of the customers bought were always rather extravagant, and this man seemed to have spared no expense. _He must be planning on staying here for while_, Draco thought, as the room the man had rented could have passed for a flat. Though maybe he was just one of _those_ guys, who never did anything without a bit of style. Which was promising. Frivolous money spending was something he'd long since learned to appreciate. The sound of the television soon caught his attention, and Draco wandered slowly into the other room, taking off his jacket as he did so to get at least one article of clothing out of the way. When he entered the room where all the noise was coming from, his eyes landed on a half-dressed man who was drying his hair with a white towel, eyes fixed on the television screen so he could still watch the afternoon news. And when he put his towel down, there, in the middle of his forehead, was a familiar lightning bolt shaped scar that made Draco stop in his tracks.

_No. Fucking. Way._

There was no way in _Hell_ that Harry Potter was in Muggle London. No, forget that thought, there was no way that Harry sodding Potter was in a fancy hotel _flat_ so that he could have a private place to shag a random man. There was absolutely no way. The last Draco had heard of the Wizarding world's beloved hero, he was off trying to reproduce with the Weaslette like it was his job. He most certainly was _not_ gay, he absolutely was _not_ anywhere near the Muggle world, and he positively was _not_ low enough on the 'skeeze' scale to actually go off and buy a prostitute of all the damn things in the world. There was not a chance in Hell. This had to be some sort of a joke. Draco remembered now the look on Scabior's face before he left and made a mental note to kill him when he got the chance.

Potter must have sensed someone staring at him somewhere in that war-wired brain of his because he soon tore his eyes away from the television as the feeling of being watched settled upon him. When his green eyes met the steely grey of Draco's own, the famous wizard pulled his wand form his pants pocket and took a defensive stance.

"What the bloody Hell are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, and Draco walked further into the room, intrigued as to what Potter was doing. Out of his world now or not, Draco still found the boy fascinating and this would no doubt give him a chance to tease the Hell out of him. Just like the old days.

"I should be asking the same of you," he replied coolly. "Though a little...well he's not a birdy, is he? More of a _rat_. A little _rat_ told me that the famous Harry Potter was in London. I just wanted to get your autograph." Harry didn't smile - his expression didn't even twitch. And he still held his wand up like Draco was going to start throwing out Unforgivables at any second. The blond, however, just took a seat on the couch instead, staring at Harry intently. He still looked almost exactly the same as he did three years ago. Same stupid scar. Same stupid, untidy hair. Same stupid eyes. Same stupid face. "You can put down your wand, Potter, I'm unarmed. Unlike you, I'm not stupid enough to go walking around Muggle London brandishing sticks at my enemies." Still, Potter didn't move. This made Draco frown - he understood that the damned hero didn't necessarily trust him after what he did, but honestly? Was he really daft enough to believe that if Draco had his wand with him, he'd have left it hidden for so long? "Don't believe me? What, do you want me to strip for you to prove it? Let you do a nice cavity search maybe?" A stony expression was his only reward, and Draco decided with a smirk that it was time to bring out the real ammo. "Though that little rat also told me that was _exact_ reason I was called down here..."

Luckily his reflexes hadn't slowed since he left the Wizarding world, and Draco was able to easily dodge the hex Potter threw at him. He laughed. "Ooh, touchy subject I see."

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Potter said through clenched teeth. "I...after the war, you fled. Most of us even thought that you'd died o-or worse." Draco traced patterns idly on the couch cushion, wondering silently for a moment what could possibly be worse than death. "You were gone. Out of my life for good. You and me - we weren't supposed to see each other ever again."

"Well I'm sorry I didn't follow the exact layout of what you have planned for your life," Draco replied boredly, "but it wasn't exactly something that _I_ wanted either."

Silence fell between them. Draco resumed his tracing of the couch cushions and Harry looked back at the tellie, though Draco strongly suspected it was more to have something else to look at than it was to actually observe the headline news. "How long?" the blond asked after a few minutes and Harry still didn't look away from the screen as he answered with a questioning noise. "Have you been shagging blokes behind the Wizarding world's back, Potter. How long?"

Harry looked back at him. "Since you disappeared." Draco didn't know how to respond to this, so he simply didn't.

Harry began pacing back and forth in the room as the silence between them extended, running his hands through his already untidy black hair. He was muttering to himself, nonsense that Draco couldn't hear. Finally, though, he stopped back in his original spot and looked at Draco almost pleadingly. "This just isn't how it works!"

Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised slightly at the sudden outburst. "How what works, exactly?"

"This! The story! _Our_ story! You hate me and make my childhood Hell, I deal with your shit, I defeat the Dark Lord, you go into hiding, and _I don't have to see your bloody face ever again_." Draco was taken aback by the ferocity in Potter's expression and the bite in his words. "I shouldn't have to...this isn't...what are you _doing_ here?"

"You tell me!" Draco shot back, annoyed by the harsh rejection (always with the harsh rejection). "Half an hour ago I was lying on my nice, warm bed planning on sleeping the bloody night away and then fucking _Nick_ walks in to tell me-"

"_You work for Nick_? _Scabior? _Oh _fuck_ no..."

_"_Watch your language Potter it's disrespectful." The two met eyes once more before Harry blushed, ducking his head. "What are you doing buying _male_ prostitutes from a former _Snatcher_ anyway? That's the far more pressing question. I thought you and the red-headed social reject were going at it like rabbits by now, and I don't mean that best bloke of yours, either."

If anything, Potter flushed a deeper red and sat down in a chair, still not looking up at Draco. "It didn't...Ginny and I..." He pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. "It isn't working out."

"Obviously," Draco responded, slightly annoyed.

"Oh, shut up and let me talk, Malfoy." Surprisingly, Draco did. "Ginny's great," Potter continued, and he seemed to visibly relax some, obviously relieved to be talking to someone, anyone, even if it happened to be his childhood rival. "She is. But she's...well she's just..."

"Female?"

"I thought I told you to shut up." Draco rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet after that. Potter seemed slightly surprised that Draco listened to him a second time, but he didn't let this hold him back from his story. "That's...admittedly just it, though. Ginny's great but she's not...Ron or Bill or..." He looked up and waved his hand in Draco's general direction, and the blond tried once again to help him finish his sentence.

"Male?"

"Precisely. I haven't found a way to tell her o-or anybody really. I mean, how the Hell would they react to a bomb like that? Usually I'm able to get by by doing...y'know this but..." He furrowed his brow. "Why am I even telling you this? You'll probably just go to the Prophet with all of this anyway and then I'll really be fucked."

Draco snorted. "Yeah because the Prophet is dying to listen to what _I_ have to say," he countered bitterly. "You know as well as I do that they'd hex me sooner than listen to me for spreading wild rumors about their Golden Boy."

The two fell silent again after that, trying to take in the weirdness of the entire situation. So Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the Wizarding world was a complete pouf. Who knew? Draco surveyed his face, wanting to tease him _so_ badly in nearly hurt, but Potter looked so distraught that he just thought better of it. He'd never hear the end of it from Nick if he pissed off a customer. Because that's what Potter was to him now - not his childhood rival but his customer, the man who had paid for him to drop by and shag him. Draco let out a breath and Potter looked up at him. Well wasn't this just _dandy_.

"I suppose we should just get it done and over with then? Then go on with our lives and act like it never happened. The usual."

"Wh-What?" The dark-haired male opposite him looked up, slightly terrified, and Draco shrugged.

"Well, you know...You already paid. It's sort of...my job."

Harry frowned. "You shouldn't be a prostitute," he said simply, and Draco rolled his eyes in a quick response.

"Thanks, Mum, I wasn't aware it was such a seedy job. Sweet Merlin, I have seen the light. Let me just finish this _one_ job and get the cash for this month's rent and I'll give up my terrible lifestyle. I swear to it." But sarcasm aside, Potter just continued to stare at him with that same little frown, like he was disappointed in him for ending up where he was in life. Draco let out another annoyed breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Look, it's not my ideal occupation, but it is my _occupation_ and you honestly _are_ helping to pay my rent so if you don't mind, I'd rather we just-"

"Do it?"

"Eloquently spoken, Potter, but yes. _Do it_."

The brunette worked his bottom lip between his teeth, observing Draco carefully. "What if I changed my mind?"

"Then I'll be forced to remind you that we have no refunds and I'll be on my way." Draco shrugged again. "I have a nice, warm bed waiting for me. A bed I'm fortunate enough to even have, thanks to you lot."

Harry cringed and Draco knew he had touched a nerve. "You don't have to go," the boy wonder said quietly, and Draco snorted.

"Thank you, your majesty, but I do. If I'm not here on company time, then I'm wasting my own personal time. And I don't think either of us want that, do we?"

"I paid for services," Harry said, his voice surprisingly and suddenly commanding and strong at the mention of Draco leaving, "so even if I don't want to get to it right away so I have time to make up my mind, you _will_ have to stay."

"Or," Draco smirked, "I could just leave and tell our dear friend Nick that you changed your mind and have him never know the truth."

"Until I owled complaining about not getting proper service, right?"

"I'm starting to think you missed having me around." Harry didn't respond, and Draco sat back on the couch. "You _have_ missed me, haven't you? That's cute. Touching"

"It's not supposed to be like this," Harry said quietly, repeating his words from before in favor of answering, and Draco didn't know how to respond to that. So once again he didn't. The two fell into another silence that seemed to last forever. This time, though, it was Harry who broke it. "I did, though. Miss you."

This caught Draco off guard. "Pardon?"

"Look, it's not like I planned on it happening, but life grew kind of...dull after the war. After a while, I just...I found myself wishing you were around again." Harry lowered his eyes to the ground, refusing to look at Draco again. "Just because competing with you was...it brought something to my life."

Draco gaped at him. "That's really pathetic, Potter."

"Shut the fuck _up_, Malfoy. I swear, you are the world's worst interrupter..."

"I suppose that would actually make me the best. It's not my fault you take such long pauses between sentences."

This comment seemed to be unnecessarily funny to Harry, who paused for a moment to stare at Draco, dumbstruck, and then broke into a small fit of laughter. In spite of himself, after a few minutes of staring back at his childhood nemesis, Draco started laughing too.

"Did you really miss me?" Draco asked after they'd regained their composure, and Harry let his smile falter slightly. Honestly, the idea still shocked him. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived...missing Draco Malfoy, the bane of everyone's existence. It just didn't seem to fit right in his mind.

"Yeah." Potter nodded tightly, looking away from him and down at his feet. "I...I did."

Silence. Then,

"I'm still not sure why."

"I told you all I'm willing to give up right now." Potter's expression grew suddenly guarded behind those beautiful greens of his, and Draco thought with a twinge of guilt and slight anger that he must be putting up mental barriers in case Draco had been hiding his wand all the while and planned on whipping it out now to perform Legilimency. His indication as to how much he didn't trust Draco surprisingly hurt a lot, and the blond found himself second guessing that Potter had actually missed him at all. Not that he had ever _really_ believed him, even if it was a stupid thing to lie about. And not that it mattered.

"Understandable," Draco mumbled quietly, and Harry's features softened for a moment.

"I am telling the truth, though. About...you and...yeah. Life post-Voldemort just isn't as exciting as I'd hoped."

Draco winced at the former Dark Lord's name, but he didn't allow it to bother him too much. He couldn't be hurt by him any longer. There was no point in getting all up in arms about it. "What exactly were you expecting, though?" he found himself asking. "Constant parties and things to do? Parades that lasted centuries? Everyone who opposed you is...well, locked up. Or dead. Or banished, like me. It's over. That's the end of the story for you." He found himself feeling somewhat bitter as he added, "All is well."

"Is it, though?" Potter's bitter tone matched his childhood rival's, his expression confused. "I thought that's how it was going to be, too. I'd have parties and press and people to lock up and chase down still, but it'd be over in a few months and then I'd really start to live. I'd fall in love and raise a family and be an Auror...And somehow I'd feel like it was all _worth _something. Y'know? Like I did all that for some bigger, glorious purpose." He frowned. "But I was wrong. I'm not in love. I hate trying to make a family, let alone continue to try with a woman...And being an Auror now is just...it sucks. I don't earn anything. I don't have to work for _shit_ and it sounds great but..." He shook his head. "I shouldn't be telling you this. I'm going to regret it. I know I am."

Draco frowned. "Potter," he said quietly, "I'm not telling anyone. They wouldn't believe me if I tried. I think you've forgotten who I am. Besides, the only people I talk to now are people you don't know. And people who don't know what I...do. Muggles. It's not like it's something I can go off and tell people. I'd get more shit than you, especially from Nick."

"I still can't believe this," Harry said, shaking his head. "I never thought that you of all people would end up-" His eyes widened and he immediately stopped talking but Draco felt his temper start to flare up as the atmosphere in the room suddenly grew ten times colder.

"Would end up what, Potter?"

"Nothing."

"Don't _nothing_ me, you prat. Would end up what? So pathetic? Or maybe I should be asking where? Did you not think I could sink this low, is that it? That I could fall this hard?"

"That's not what I meant at all."

"Oh really?" Draco stood now, preparing himself to leave by pulling on his jacket. "Then what did you mean, hm? That you never expected me to work for scum like that? That you never expected a Malfoy to _stoop_ to this level of pathetic-"

"Stop it! That's not what I meant at all."

"Thank you for your business, Mr. Potter, but I think I should be going now."

"Draco, don't..."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis now?" Potter, for all his famous eloquence, didn't reply. "I see. Well then, _Harry_, as you have now so lovingly reminded me, I'm not here to sit and talk to you. I'll get you your money back somehow, but if you're not doing to do this, I really think I should be going to find someone who will. It is, as I have so often reiterated, my_ job_."

"Draco-"

But he was already walking away, slamming the hotel door behind him as he left. Why had he done that? Why, why, why? Why had he stayed to talk? That was _stupid_ of him. Stupid, stupid Draco! He was supposed to avoid all things having to do with the Wizarding world. Shit, he was supposed to avoid all things having to do with Aurors and law-enforcement and Harry bloody Potter. He wasn't supposed to stick around when it came to Harry Potter, ever, not for anything. As the boy himself had said, that wasn't how the story went. They were not supposed to cross paths. Ever. And he certainly wasn't supposed to be some twisted form of _flattered_ when Potter admitted to missing him - fuck it, he wasn't even supposed to be missed! He was supposed to just disappear, to be done with magic, to be done with wizards, to be done with Harry _sodding_ Potter. He had to remind himself of that, had to force himself to not turn back around. Harry wasn't part of his life anymore. No wizard was. No wizard but his boss.

That night, as he was lying on his bed back at his own personal residence, he received a letter via owl post, something Nick found highly amusing when Draco showed him the note later the next day. It just had one sentence scribbled on it in untidy scrawl and no name, but Draco knew who it was from. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out, what with the words it actually contained:

_I don't need my money back._


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Draco having ignored Potter's message to him, now that he knew that he was still out there somewhere, Harry insisted on writing to Draco at least once a day. Draco would wake up and there would be an owl sitting outside his window or Scabior leaning against his door frame holding a letter. And each one was only one sentence long and held some unimportant message that Draco could not fathom a reason for Potter to tell him. The first of these letters said simply _I'm sorry_, which the blond found satisfaction in tearing to shreds so that he didn't keep feeling the need to respond. The second was just one word - _Respond_. But Draco had been too submissive without reason to Harry when he saw him and he felt no urge to give into a one word letter that he didn't even want. The next few made more progress. _We need to talk_ followed by _Don't be a prat_ and then finally _Don't you miss it, too?_ which had Draco reaching for a pen before he remembered that he one, didn't have an owl to return the letter with and he was not going to ask Nick for one and two, he was giving up on Harry Potter completely because he was no longer a part of his world.

He didn't even know _why_ Potter was bothering him, which just made it harder to ignore his curiosity. If he remembered correctly, the guy had tried to _hex_ him just for showing up the last time they met. And now all of a sudden he wanted to get buddy-buddy and make friends? What, because of a not-so-pleasant _chat_? Draco knew that the poor kid was weird and maybe a little troubled, but was he really so mentally damaged that he had to try to bring back a past enemy just because he missed fighting with him?

Evidently, he did. Because soon enough, Potter got wise and stopped sending letters to him. He sent one, instead, to his employer.

"Your 427 is back."

Draco rubbed his eyes sleepily, pressing the cell phone more firmly against his ear as though it would help him to hear better in his sleepy stupor. "Pardon?"

"You 'eard me. Your 427."

"Is that a time? Shit, Nick, I'm no good with times." Really? He had woken him up for this?

"No you moron." He heard some rustling on Scabior's end. "A room number. Suite 427. You paid him a visit last week."

His heart stopped. No...He hadn't...Harry hadn't gone to Nick, had he? He hadn't paid for another session - there was no way. There was no way in _Hell_ Potter paid that much money just to talk to him...

"He was the one who canceled last time, though. He'll probably just bail again. It's not worth getting me up for."

"Ay, mate, he paid, you're going. You don't get to pick and choose who you visit."

"Can't you choose someone else to go? Trust me, they'll want to."

"Can't. 'E asked specifically for you."

Draco groaned. Like it or not, Potter could be very clever when he wanted to.

"What time? And if I come back early again this time, I'm going to kill you."

"Don't threaten me, love, it won't end well." Draco rolled his eyes. "Go right now, though - I got the letter a bit later than anticipated so get your arse in gear so 'e doesn't come a'knockin'. The key should still work. If 'e leaves, 'e leaves, but you'll make it worth 'is while if 'e don't. Understood?"

"Clear as day. Which I will now be sleeping through thanks to you."

"Don't blame me, mate. I told you it wouldn't be glamorous."

Then he hung up, leaving Draco feeling oddly sick as he got dressed, ready to once more enter the suite of one Mr. Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he arrived back at the suite. Probably another repeat of the last time, where Potter was completely unprepared and tried to just sit there and talk about their feelings for hours and hours on end. Something filled with conversations and tea and trying to get Draco to <em>open up<em> and talking about _missing each other_ like Potter was apparently prone to doing in his post-Dark Lord boredom. He was expecting painfully emotional. He was expecting talk of the past and how to deal with the present. What he _wasn't_ expecting was for Harry to nearly tackle him as soon as he entered the door, hands holding tight to his wrists as he assaulted Draco's neck. That he wasn't expecting at all, so of course that was exactly what happened, and it took a few seconds of nipping on Harry's part for Draco to remember what he was there for in the first place. Sex. However, instead of saying something that could sound even remotely sexual, the only thing he could manage to get out was, "Don't you ever wear a shirt, Potter?"

But Harry didn't answer. He just pulled Draco toward the open bedroom door and then pushed him nearly onto the mattress once they got there. "I've got to make a Floo call to my wife," he said, his tone commanding and his expression all business. "But when I get back, you're going to be naked, in that bed, under those covers. Waiting. Not making a sound. Is that clear?" Draco nodded and took a seat on the mattress, prepared to start undressing when Harry stepped forward to place a kiss that was far too tender to be considered lustful on his lips. "Don't even think about following me," he said sternly, too sternly for him to pull off honestly, looking into his eyes, and again, Draco just nodded. Whatever Potter wanted, he got. That was the first rule on his long list of hooker-isms that Scabior had made up for him. And then Harry was gone, off to find whatever room actually had a _fireplace_ inside the extravagent suite.

_What in the world is he playing at?_ Draco thought as he pulled off his shirt, rubbing the side of his neck where Potter had already left his mark. That was much different than what had happened the week before, and when Scabior had said that Potter asked specifically for _him_ well...Well he had figured he was going to get a repeat talk fest, not a sexual assault before he could even shut the door. _Maybe he's given up,_ he thought hopefully as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped out of them. _Maybe this is his way of saying that he's done. Maybe he really just wants sex. _Hopefully. Draco wasn't sure how many more personal messages Scabior was going to allow him to take before he started getting pissy. He didn't want his boss to think that he was giving it away for free, after all, and that was exactly what he would be accused of doing if Potter kept trying to have heart to hearts. Finally, once his clothing had been shed, Draco slipped beneath the sheets of the queen-sized bed in the room and attempted to get himself aroused so that he could get in and out of there as quickly as possible. However, his head was just swimming with questions instead of things of a sexual nature and he found himself still limp and stuck in thought when Harry entered the room again.

"Sorry," the brunette said, beginning to remove his trousers. "She talks a _lot_. Said the same thing you did, though. About the shirts. I found that highly ironic, all things considered."

Draco remained silent - he honestly didn't know what to say and he didn't want to make this any more personal than it had to be. Watching Harry in front of him, though, frazzled with a pink tint still on his cheeks from the heat of the fire before the Floo powder was thrown in, taking off his clothes, was more arousing than he thought it would be, and Draco's previous problem was soon on its way to solving itself with the removal of a single article of clothing. He had to admit, even if it had been three years since Harry had had to do any real fighting or dueling, the man still looked good. Not incredibly buff by any means but still definitely toned with a face that had charmed many for years. It was a miracle, really, that he'd never seen it before. Potter was...well Potter was _incredibly_ good-looking. It was quite an amazing albeit somewhat awkward thing to realize, and Draco felt himself steadily but satisfyingly more aroused at the idea of shagging Harry - or as it were, being shagged by him.

Luckily, Potter seemed to have the same idea, as he didn't even bother removing any other clothes or even getting under the sheets with Draco before he joined him, straddling him on the bed with a satisfied little smirk on his face. "I knew I could get you back here somehow," he said, and though Draco could definitely see the lust and want in his facial expression, his eyes held a tenderness that made him want to get out of there as quickly as possible. Wrong. He had been so wrong. There was a definite tone of emotion there, not at all just the sex promised, and the idea made him want to be sick. Embarrassingly, it also fed the fire that had begun to spark in his core. "It took a while for me to figure out how exactly," Harry continued, barely brushing his lips across the most sensitive areas of Draco's neck as though he'd known where they were all these years and just decided to pull out the knowledge now. "You're so damn stubborn-" he thrust his hips down onto Draco's on the last word, making the blond groan softly, "-that I knew this was the only way you'd come back and actually stay. I hope you liked my messages, though. I thought they might help in getting you back here."

Though it killed Draco to admit it, that was probably a little bit true. The messages, while annoying, were also flattering in that he knew Harry was thinking about him - something he hadn't ever really had before unless it was in a poor light. It was ego-boosting and the best way to get Draco Malfoy to listen to anyone was to feed his ego. _Damn, he's good._ The thought was reinforced by Harry grinding his hips down. Even through the fabric separating them, Draco could feel their erections rub against each other, and when Potter moved his hips just _so_-

"I'm guessing you liked that," Harry smiled at the volume of the moan Draco let escape. "Noted." He then repeated the action again to the same results and seemed more satisfied than before, even if Draco was digging his nails into the mattress, dangerously, fully, and almost painfully aroused with just the heat of Potter's breath and feeling of his hips to even get him going - pathetic, really, with the stamina he'd built up after all these years. He tried to think of something to cool him down, like the fact that Potter was trying to _talk to him during foreplay _or even that there was foreplay at all, just because it was the only way Draco would listen to him.

Those thoughts helped slightly, and Draco was only vaguely aware that Harry had gone silent to suckle softly on the hollow of his neck, nipping quickly and then soothing it with his tongue in slow circles. Draco tilted his head back to try and make it more comfortable for the brunette, having to remind himself over and over that this was the job, for the money, so that he didn't run out of there as quickly as possible from the awkwardness of the entire situation. Clients were allowed to talk during sex. Though usually none were nearly as awkward as this.

"I used to be so fascinated by you." Harry's confession was only slightly muffled by the fact that his lips didn't want to leave Draco's pale skin. Draco felt his body flushing, but he wasn't sure if it was from the comment or just pure arousal as Harry began a slow, blocked, but steady rhythm with the soft thrusts against Draco's hips. "You were always just so _damn_ appealing, all the time," he continued while Draco began to match his rhythm in attempt to get more satisfying results through the sheet that covered him. Harry let out a quiet but contented moan at the returned friction. "I could never just keep to myself, and you never made it easy. Because you were there _all_ the time. And I mean all the time." He lifted his hips to begin to pull the sheets back, a low moan escaping his mouth at the sight of Draco's fully aroused cock. He nuzzled the area on his throat that he'd been nipping at and the affectionate gesture made the other man squirm. "Ron and Hermione," Harry said as he moved back up to Draco's jaw, "always said that they thought you had a crush on me." Draco's heart pounded when Harry pulled back to look him in the eye. "To be honest, it was sort of the other way around."

Harry then began to pull on the waistband of his boxers, giving Draco time to compose himself and speak. "Why are you telling me this?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead he sat up and allowed room for Draco to move while he removed that final article of clothing. "Do you mind if I use magic? I-Instead of trying to find...I mean, if you don't want me to we're fine, but I figured-"

"Potter." It was just his name but it was enough to shut Harry up.

"Yes. Right. My wand's on the nightstand."

Draco wanted to point out that his wand was actually right in front of him and looking _very_ happy to see him, but remembering that this was business as usual, he did not, and instead just grabbed the fine piece of woodwork from the nightstand on his left and handed it to Harry. While Harry was busy casting a lubrication charm on himself, Draco turned on his way to getting onto all fours as was what most preferred (people didn't like to look at the pin cushions they stuck their pricks in, after all), but he soon found Harry's hand on his shoulder forcing him back down onto the mattress. "I want you looking at me," he said firmly. And with that, Draco knew that this was going to get a lot more personal than he would have liked, but he adjusted himself to get at a good angle for Potter anyway. Whatever the brunette wanted, he got. Rule number one. Even if it was gloriously and awkwardly painful for him to have to adjust to.

Harry sure took his sweet time about the entire thing, too. He didn't just stretch the damn man and then pound into him. He let his hands wander first down Draco's chest, brushing lightly over his nipples and making Draco let out shuddered breaths. He then traveled down to his stomach, which he brushed over lightly before descending further down to trace his hip bones. He mumbled a bunch of nonsense under his breath, something about beautiful and maybe a few swear words, and Draco bit back a few noises of satisfaction as his fingers brushed his erection. Then Potter abandoned the teasing and actually brought his fingers to Draco's arse, tracing small circles on the cheeks before pulling away to mutter another quick lubrication charm. A slick finger soon pressed past Draco's entrance, and he squirmed down further at the contact and tried his usual habit of closing his eyes and pretending he was with someone else as he realized they were finally going to get down to business.

But he couldn't manage it. Every face he tried to summon to help escape the situation was Potter's, every feeling he was trying to conjure was actually being done to him, every sound he made himself remember was really coming from the brunette himself. Harry slowly pressed his finger into him, eliciting a small noise from the base of Draco's throat. The intrusion came easily, three years of use without pause leaving him embarrassingly relaxed, and his muscles put up no resistance as Potter sunk the digit further into him. He let his head tilt back against the pillow as Harry began to slowly withdraw his finger. He tried to imagine that someone else was doing it, that it was more gentle, maybe a little more loving than he was used to, that maybe it felt more consensual - but then it occurred to him that he was actually just thinking of what was happening to him. It was all Potter. He bit his lip, changing the vision he wanted. Someone adding a second finger, less carefully than the first, curling slightly inside of him. But to his slight annoyance, that was Potter, too. It wasn't something he was picturing a past conquest doing, it wasn't something he was imagining to attempt stay aroused, and it wasn't even something he was thinking of to cope with the situation. It was just something that was _happening_ and he couldn't bring his mind to pull away from that. This was happening and he couldn't detach himself from it, and the worst part of all was that he didn't even really care when he got down to it. It felt good, so very, very good. Who could complain about that?

Draco was panting slightly, sweat beginning to appear on his brow as Harry leisurely moved his fingers inside of him, stretching him slowly, painfully slow. Almost like he was actually _afraid_ of hurting him. It was strange. No one - and he really meant no one - had stopped to think about him during sex since...well he couldn't remember when. Even before he'd taken the job as a living blow-up sex doll, it wasn't like he was handled with extreme care. But Harry took it slowly, curling and scissoring his fingers, stretching slowly and with care and even pausing to bend down and press a kiss to the curve of Draco's ear and ask, "Ready?" Draco at first didn't respond - what was he supposed to say? Harry would continue regardless. But evidently that wasn't true because Harry just continued his leisurely pace with his fingers, moving them almost lazily inside of him. Like he could go forever.

"Yes," Draco croaked out quietly after a few minutes of his, and like that, Potter withdrew his fingers. Draco laid his head back against the pillows, confused, tired, stimulated beyond belief. He was rock hard - still, rock hard - and panting and while Potter cast the lubrication charm on his own erection, Draco found himself thinking that he almost felt...empty in waiting for him. Like he longed for him to be inside of him, to press into him, to fill him in the same slow and loving manner that he had stretched and prepared him. And like an answer to his prayers, Harry soon positioned himself at Draco's enterance and paused to make sure the other man was comfortable. He actually _paused_. And when he got an eager nod from the man beneath him (the sooner this happened, the sooner he could leave, that was Draco's excuse for it), he began to push in slowly pausing only when Draco's soft pants turned into a hiss and allowing the other man to adjust. When Draco nodded again (seriously? He was getting a say in sex?), Harry began to push in further, though definitely more slowly and with more frequent pauses. Draco let out a soft moan as the familiar but still uncomfortable burn of being filled subsided for a moment, and Potter himself tried to memorize every reaction, every feeling, to make this as pleasant for the both of them as possible. He pushed the final centimeters inside, breathing heavily at the tightness surrounding him, pressing his forehead to Draco's so that his breath fell across his cheek with every pant. Finally, when Draco gave his okay, Harry started a slow and rhythm with his hips, awkward at first, that steadied itself as Draco began to try and match the movement of his hips of his own. Harry moaned and the sound was so seductive that Draco could feel his own cock twinge in interest, pre-cum beading at the head. Harry swiped over it with his thumb causing Draco to buck somewhat uncomfortably into the feeling and let out a loud moan, and Harry used this as some form of lubrication to start stroking Draco's prick lightly as he shifted his angle inside of him to get comfortable.

"You asked me," Harry said, speeding up his thrusts slightly, "why I was telling you all this." Draco moaned quietly in relief as Potter managed to rub through against his prostate again and again, finding the pattern to it with judgment based on the volume of the noises Draco was making, with deadly (and painstaking) accuracy, and he nodded to encourage him to go on, concentrating too hard on not coming to actually speak. "It's because," Harry panted, pressing a kiss to Draco's lips that lasted only a second so he could finish his sentence, "because you deserve so much more than this." Then he brought his lips to Draco's again and his kiss was tender, sweet, loving, but still passionate, and it felt like he was saying a million things at once without having to actually say a thing. He picked up the intensity of the thrusts he was making with his hips, tightened his hand slightly around Draco's cock as he matched the new pace with his hand, and Draco could hardly decipher half of what was happening before he felt his entire body tense and then blissfully release as he came, moaning into Harry's kiss and causing the other man to reach his release only moments later. They rode out the orgasm together and then fell together, lips still locked in that same tender kiss, chests heaving as they struggled to breathe without breaking their liplock.

Finally, though, Harry pulled out of him and seemed to almost collapse forward onto Draco, sitting against his hips and resting his forehead on the other man's. "It kills me," he said, brushing Draco's cheek, his words coming staggered as he slowly caught his breath, "that I had to do that to get you here. Kills me." He pressed his lips against Draco's again, urgently, passionately, _desperately_ like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. "You deserve so much more than this, Draco. So, so much more..." He allowed himself a few more moments resting against Draco before he decided that enough was enough and turned off him, falling back onto the unoccupied space next to him. "I don't suppose you could..." He gestured to where Draco was now, seemingly lost for words. "I mean, I know that we just...And that's all you're supposed to do...you're not supposed to stick around but...but could you...?"

"Stay?" Draco filled in, shifting awkwardly and raising a hand to the marks on his neck as he realized that for the first time in a long time someone had actually made love to him. "It isn't really encouraged, no."

He looked over at the brunette who had just gotten through silently and awkwardly telling him he loved him for the price of a few hundred pounds, who had just hired him as a prostitute so he'd get the chance to ironically treat him with respect, and he felt his heart swell with emotions that he couldn't quite place or understand. He and Potter had never been on friendly terms. Ever. And though he had tried desperately for years to get the stupid little git to notice him, to just be impressed with him to the least or acknowledge him as something more than a future Death Eater, he had no idea that Harry had been captivated the entire time. In fact, he was certain that Potter _hated_ him; Draco had been an outright prat growing up. He'd grown out of it, as boys were prone to do, but it didn't change the ignorant mistakes he'd made as a child or the bigger mistakes he'd made as he got older. It didn't change that he practically killed Albus Dumbledore. Or that he had invited Voldemort into Hogwarts or allowed their house to be taken over as Death Eater headquarters so to speak without a fight. It didn't change that he had taken the Mark or that he had defended the Death Eaters against the Order or that he had just been an outright horrible person until the war was over and he was able to take his leave from Voldemort's army. It didn't change any of that, but somehow Harry found a way to admire him anyway. While it was happening. After it had happened. After he saw how broken it had made him. And the idea of that made him want to stay in that bed forever, made him want to tell Harry to tell Ginny to bugger off so that they could lay there forever in a dream world where there was no war, no conflict, and no reality, where they could just lie in a post coital haze together for the rest of eternity.

But he couldn't do that. Because whether he liked it or not, this was the real world, and in the real world, that wasn't how the story went. In the real world, the Golden Boy grows up to get the girl and raise a family and be happy and praised by everyone forever, but the villain? Well, the villain was nothing but pyrite, fool's gold. He could paint himself to be as good as he wanted but in the end, what was he? A broken Death Eater who had fallen onto hard times and now spent his days selling himself, selling sex for money because that was all he was worth to anyone. That was all he was. A play thing. Fool's gold. It's what he'd started as and what he would always be. That's how the story really went.

"Do you think...do you think you could stay anyway?"

Draco raised his eyebrows, looking over at Harry who was now cleaning himself off with magic, staring intently at his wand as if looking at Draco while he spoke would curse the answer to his question.

"Do you really want me to do that, Potter?"

"I do."

Draco paused. "You know I don't love you back."

"I never said I loved you, Draco."

But he could see the light go from Potter's expression, noticed how his hand shook ever so slightly as he tried to regain himself so that he could turn and magic the mess off of Draco as well. And suddenly Draco just felt..._bad_. Because he was lying, and he knew he was lying because no matter how many times he had told himself growing up that Harry Potter was an insufferable git, it didn't change the fact that getting off was so much easier thinking of those green eyes or that his wet dreams were filled to the brim with the lanky boy with the lightning bolt scar that he'd met so many years ago. It didn't change the fact that he had vied for his attention from the moment he was rejected, that he tried so hard to prove himself to him - so hard that he got too obsessed with proving he could do anything that Potter doubted he could do that he didn't notice the slippery slope he had put himself on or the bad road that it was leading him down. But he couldn't tell Harry that. He couldn't fall in love with Harry. He was a prostitute. A toy. And Harry was...Harry was Harry. That wasn't a part of their story and they both knew it.

"I want you to stay anyway," Harry said softly. "I don't know where you're living these days...if it's nice or if it's not. Doesn't matter to me. I just...I want to show you for one night what it is that you deserve. The life a guy like you should be living instead of...of this."

"Potter..."

"No, Draco, please. Don't take that stupid 'it's never going to happen, Potter' tone with me. I'll pay if I have to, all the money in the world, but I just...I want you to understand what I have been too afraid to tell you for what is it, ten years now? I want you to know that...who you were around and the actions you took to save your family don't define who you are. It didn't then. It doesn't now. I've seen who you really are - during Quidditch, around your friends." He paused and stroked his cheek lightly, turning slightly onto his side. "When you come." He bit his lip. "The day you introduced yourself to me...did you know you were the first person in the world who had ever gone out of their way to befriend me? Or at least to...to talk to me like I was somebody normal. I mean, there was Ron and Hermione on the train but they never...that was all an accident. You actually took an interest in me. You...You sought me out." He paused. "I never forgot that."

"Potter, come on," Draco said quietly after a few moments of silence, frustrated by his kindness, "that's not...I can't. You told me yourself that this isn't how the story is supposed to go."

"But this is how it really went, how it's going," Harry urged, turning back to actually lean over Draco again. "This is the story happening here and now."

"I hope you realize how much like a chick flick you sound right now, Potter."

"I hope you realize how much I really don't care, Malfoy. And also that I am incredibly amused you even know what a chick flick is." He paused, hovering over him and he leaned down to gently press his lips against Draco's again, not a fair move by any means. "Just stay," he said softly, pressing their foreheads together softly. "I will send you back with extra cash so that Nick doesn't skin you alive if that's what it takes. I will consider this as something you're doing on the job. I don't care. I just want you here."

Draco bit his bottom lip. "And if Ginny calls?"

"Ginny won't call."

"But if she does?"

"She can wait."

Draco sighed, turning his head to look away. He really, really did not think that staying was such a good idea. Harry was far too insistent on this _feeling_ he'd apparently harbored since Hogwarts, and though Draco would love to bask in the fact that he had finally caught Harry's attention in the most permanent of ways, he couldn't. Because he couldn't let that happen, couldn't let Potter admit he had feelings for him. He was a _prostitute_ for Merlin's sake! He had money to make, a steady upkeep to depend on, a scary boss that was more than willing to track him down and kill him for killing about half of his sales by saying that he quit. Because Draco was a _damn good_ prostitute. People liked him, asked for him, paid extra just to have him sent instead of any of the others, and Scabior ate that _up_. Letting Harry falling in love with him and quitting was a very stupid and dangerous idea, and letting Harry fall in love with him and not quitting was even more so. But...it was hard to remember that when Harry was so close, when his breath fell so carefully across his skin, and his hand was running softly down his cheek. When he was feeling loved, it was hard to think straight, and he began to think that...well, that one night couldn't kill it, right? Especially if Harry paid extra...Scabior did love his money...

"Just one night?" Draco wet his lips, turning back to look Harry in the eye.

"One night."

"And you'll pay extra?"

"I wish I didn't have to but I understand why I will."

"You make it very hard to say no to you, Potter."

Harry smiled. "It's sort of my specialty. Now go take a shower and get dressed. Please. Then I promise you that you'll have the best night of your life."

"Sounds kinky," Draco teased. "You're going to have to pay extra for that."

"Oh, go shower."

"You're not going to join me halfway through are you? Because that's extra, too."

"How much do I have to pay to get you to shut the fuck up for once?"

"That's a couple thousand pounds at least. Not worth it. You should just let me talk; my opinions are highly valued."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go shower, you git."

Draco gave him a small smile before kissing him softly, pushing against his chest to get him off of him so that he could out of the bed and pick up his clothes from where he'd left them in a pile on the floor. Harry pointed him toward the bathroom and Draco walked toward it, feeling Harry's eyes watching every move. And vaguely, in the back of his mind, he wondered to himself what, exactly, he had just gotten himself into.


	4. Chapter 4

A lot of people like to take their shower time to think. Something about the hot water, the isolation, the soothing motion of rubbing shampoo into their scalp just makes it easier for their thoughts to flow freely. Some people even have their greatest epiphanies while showering. And it was in the shower that Draco Malfoy realized what had just happened.

Harry Potter just paid to have sex with him, confessed his long-term feelings for him, and was now paying for him to stay until morning so that they could have a date night and Draco could see what exactly it was that he "deserved". After three years of not even thinking about one another, Potter just hired Draco to fuck him and then asked to be his one-night boyfriend. Yeah - this was normal. One hundred percent normal. _Totally_ normal.

Okay - he had to get it together. Draco shut off the water to the shower, reaching out blindly to find a towel to dry his face and hair. He had to focus on the idea that this was only for a night; this was only happening because Potter was paying for it. Once they lived out this sick fantasy that they had both been vying for for years - no, just Potter, that _Potter_ had been vying for for years...then it would be over. It _had_ to be over, and by the end of the night, Draco would make that apparent. He could not allow himself to fall more in love with Harry Potter anymore than he could keep allowing for Harry to be in love with him. That wasn't the way it was meant to be. They were two completely different people living two completely different lifestyles - Harry, the Golden Boy who was richer than sin, and Draco, the whore who sold himself to even maintain one tenth of what he was used to having. Draco could not allow for Potter to forget that. He'd let him have his fun. But he was determined to show the man that it wasn't going to end the way he wanted it to.

After drying himself and getting dressed once more, Draco walked out of the bathroom to find Harry waiting for him. The brunette immediately wrapped his arms around the smaller blond in an affectionate hug, clasping his hands on the small of his back, and Draco bit his lip and reminded himself to resist. This was Potter's roleplaying game, not his. As much as it pained him, he could not give him more hope than he had. It wasn't fair.

"Nice and clean?" Harry asked quietly, planting a kiss on the top of Draco's head, and the blond bit his lip to keep himself from smiling.

"As clean as a guy like me gets."

"Hey, no, shhh, don't say things like that." Draco opened his mouth to protest but Harry put a finger to his lips to stop him. "I'm serious, Draco. I don't want you trying to do anything stupid. I know that's a stretch for you-"

"Oh fuck you."

"-but I really want this to just be...natural. No trying to talk me out of it. No resisting. No insulting yourself. Forget for just tonight that you have a job. Forget for a moment where the two of us have been for the past three years, and just...go with the flow, okay?"

No. That wasn't okay. It wasn't okay at all. Because Draco knew what would happen if he did just that. If he did that, Harry would be sweet; Harry would show him the comforts of living a normal life. He would tell him pretty words and do couple-y things, normal things, and he would treat Draco like a king, the way that the young blond had always wanted him to treat him. And Draco would fall for him even harder than before. He'd be driven mad by his emotions, blinded by his feelings, much like he was when he was younger, and through that, he would start becoming careless. He would forget who he was and what his job was, and Potter would, too. They would forget the world for one another, and as blissful as that sounded, it couldn't happen. Because Draco would always be a prostitute just like Harry would always be the Boy-Who-Lived. And the Boy-Who-Lived would not be able to deal with the fact that the man he loved was sleeping with other men, and that prostitute would never be able to stop what he was doing because stopping would mean that someone got hurt. Because Scabior was not a forgiving man.

But Draco didn't say any of that. Instead he just looked up into Harry's eyes, smiled softly, and said, "Okay."

Harry led him into the sitting room with the television where Draco had first encountered him the week before. "I made popcorn," he said, smiling excitedly, gesturing toward the bowl on the coffee table, "and I made sure that we wouldn't have any interruptions tonight. It's just you and me."

Draco's heart was pounding. It was funny - Harry could attack him the moment he walked into the door to pressure him to bed and he wouldn't do anything but go along. But the second he started breaking out normal activities, the blond began to feel nervous. Awkward. Like he was doing something that he shouldn't be doing at all. He hesitated to move into the room, and Harry seemed to sense this. "Let's sit down," he said quietly and then he led, actually _pulled_ and led, the other boy to the couch where he sat them both down and pulled Draco to his chest. Finding his ability to function again, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I hope you don't mind soap operas," Harry said, glancing at the television screen, where a Latina woman was chattering angrily into a phone. "Growing up, they were sort of a guilty pleasure of mine."

Draco stared at the TV. Something about it seemed a little...wrong. He had nothing against soap operas, of course. He found that they were highly amusing and a good way to sit back and entertain himself after a long night of work. But something about this one was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it...

"Potter?"

"Hm?"

"Is this in Spanish?"

He didn't have to look up to know that the other man was smiling.

"It is."

"Uh huh. And do you _speak_ Spanish?"

"No. But it doesn't mean that I can't enjoy the show, does it?"

Okay. Potter was loony. That was fine; the loonier he got, the less Draco would like him.

"It's just something I used to do growing up," Harry said when Draco didn't reply to his last statement. "I didn't get to watch a lot of television, but when I did, it was usually stuck on this channel. And I liked that I couldn't understand it because then I could just...picture what was going on myself. Make my own story. I much preferred that to the shit writing that most soap operas suffer under."

Damn him. When he put it like that, Draco found himself looking back at the screen with a little more fondness for what was happening. He didn't know a lot about Harry's past; just that he was raised by Muggles. Something about learning that little snippet about a Harry Potter that existed even before Draco knew him just made him grow more attracted to the man he was leaning on.

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah...besides if I can't understand them, it gives me time to do other things." He looked down at Draco and smiled. "Like pay attention to you."

Damn him to _Hell_. Draco flushed a light pink and reached out for the bowl that had the popular Muggle treat in it, and he popped a few kernels into his mouth so that he didn't have to respond. Responding would just take him further in. And he couldn't. He couldn't fall any more.

But unluckily for him, that was exactly what happened. He and Harry sat together, laughing, teasing, joking, coming up with dialogue to go along with what was happening on the screen ("Francisco, you bitch, you left the stove on! Get your arse back here." "Ay, you're the woman Juanita, the stove is your responsibility." "Oh shit, someone's not getting laid tonight."). They fed each other popcorn and tried throwing it into the other's mouth; then, when it was gone, they playfully argued over who would make more before dropping the bowl to the ground and deciding to see who was more stubborn by letting the first person to get hungry make it. They laughed, they chatted, they cuddled, and in the end, when the shows were over and the TV was turned off and it was just them, Draco found himself more infatuated with Harry Potter than he could allow himself to be. And he didn't give a damn.

"Draco." The blond looked up at the sound of his name. The two had been sitting in silence for a while, Draco's head rested against Harry's chest, thinking. "I know I said to forget about your job tonight...but...well I guess it's relevant to what I'm trying to do. But...can I ask you a question?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure."

"If this whole thing had never happened...with coming to the Muggle world and becoming a prostitute..." Harry paused and knitted his brow, as though he wasn't sure what he was saying was making any sense. "What would you be doing? Y'know as a job?"

Oh. No one had ever asked Draco that before. While he knew what it was, knew without a doubt in his mind, he was caught a little bit off guard by the fact that someone cared. "I'd be a Healer," he said quietly, and Harry gave him a curious look. "Healing the sick and injured...all the people that I...they. That they hurt. I'd want to, uhm...make it right." Potter's gaze had so much affection in it that Draco had to look away from him. "But you know, that's just a...a fantasy. A dream job. They'd never actually allow me to train to be a Healer." He rubbed his left arm with a cringe, as if he could still feel the burn from it that traveled through his entire body when Voldemort was present, like he could still feel the sickening Dark energy pulsing through his veins. Harry caught his hand, holding it still to prevent him from running his fingers over the fading Mark over and over again, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got when he remembered it was still there.

"I think that's a very noble profession," Harry said quietly. "You would make a fantastic Healer."

"You don't know that." Draco refused to look at him now, and he focused his gaze on the popcorn bowl that lay on the ground. "I put a lot of those people there-"

"No you didn't."

"But I did!" It came out sounding more harsh than he meant, but at least Harry didn't try to argue back this time. "Why does it matter anyway? It's never going to happen."

"I just...I was just curious. I'm sorry." The two sat in silence with Harry's hand still holding Draco's stationary, as if letting go would mean that Draco would leave, that the illusion he wanted to create would be shattered. Draco didn't complain - Harry's hand there reminded him that it really was over. That the Mark was fading, that life was moving on, that someone could sit there and honestly tell him that they cared about him. It made him feel a little more grounded than when he was lying awake all alone at night, sobbing into a pillow because of a nightmare that had once been reality. The two men just sat together, two pieces of one whole, falling back into silence. They were both too busy thinking of the others' words and how they would do anything in the world to take that moment back to do much else. Finally, though, Draco spoke.

"Thank you, though. For asking. No one's ever...well, it's not like anyone who knows about my job is willing to ask but...nobody has ever asked me about that before."

"I just want to know everything there is to know about you," Harry replied quietly, stroking the back of Draco's hand with his thumb. "Your dreams, your hopes, your past...I just want to try to understand you, Draco. It's all I've wanted for years."

"You know I can't tell you all of that."

"No. I know that you won't. I'll always hope that one day you feel you can, though." Then he lifted his chin to kiss him and it was that same tender, passionate, electrifying kiss that had so quickly brought him to a climax just moments ago, the same kiss that said a million things at once and now Draco had a chance to decipher each and every thought and attempt to understand. And he knew then that it didn't matter if he gave in or if he told Harry to sod off. It didn't matter how he reacted to Harry's words because this was _Harry Potter_ they were talking about, and as long as he knew that Draco was out there, he would never, ever stop trying to figure him out. Draco would never actually be alone. With that realization, he allowed himself to kiss back with the same passion, biting lightly on Harry's bottom lip and soothing it over with his tongue, getting lost in the taste that was so distinctly and sweetly Harry. He leaned against Harry's chest, shifting his weight so he was lying on him, and he allowed himself to forget it all for moment just like Harry wanted him to. In that moment, he allowed himself to believe in Harry's fantasy, and he let it become his fantasy as well. But then he pulled away slowly, reluctantly, because the cynic and realist inside him was screaming at him the entire time that that was all it was ever going to be - a fantasy.

"Why?" Draco asked quietly, resting his forehead against Harry's and shutting his eyes.

"Why what?"

"Why me?" His voice lowered to a whisper. "Out of everyone in the world, Potter...why me?"

"Because you deserve it," was the quiet reply and Draco shook his head the best he could without moving his position.

"I don't, though. I was...I was awful to you, to your friends, to the world. Don't be a bloody hero and tell me that it's okay to treat me like this, like I'm something human and real and brilliant, just because you think for some reason that I deserve it. That's not...It's not true. I'm not worth it, Potter, and you never gave me the time of day before. So why now? Why me?"

Harry's hand came up to pet Draco's hair soothingly, the other resting on his cheek where it brushed slowly once to wipe away a random tear. "It's always been you," Harry said, "and don't interrupt me and tell me I'm being stupid and cheesy because I don't care. It has always...always been you. Not just now but years and years ago. Do you really think we paid so much attention to one another because we hated each other? Do you honestly think I worked so hard to try and upstage you because I didn't care? When we were sixteen, I practically _stalked you_ for Merlin's sake." Draco let out a shaky laugh and Harry kissed his chin. "It has always been you, you stupid git, from the moment we met. Because you are a pompous, arrogant prat who never knows when to shut the Hell up, but you are also very loyal to those that you love with a thirst to show the world how truly great you are. And you have tried to show me year after year how amazing you are, from your amazing Quidditch playing to your shining intellect and even your wit. These aren't things that I'm making up. These are the things you have shown me. I just wasn't brave enough to say anything until...until now. Because everyone expected differently of me, just like they expected differently from you." Harry paused for a second before adding, "And I guess I'm choosing right here right now because I never gave you the attention that you deserved. I saw that you were struggling as I watched you grow up, and I didn't do anything about it because I was still growing up, too. I was stupid and naive. But not anymore. I can see you struggling plainly now, and I'm not going to make the same mistake of letting you slip away from me again. Not this time." He smiled. "This time you're mine. Even if you claim you don't feel the same way."

"You really are a girl sometimes, Potter," Draco replied, though his tone was soft and he was smiling. Harry laughed and ran a finger across his cheek again.

"I know. But don't pretend like you don't love it."

"Who's pretending?"

He laughed at the blank expression that met his eyes in response and kissed Harry's nose before pulling away, grabbing the popcorn bowl as he did so. "You're so...amazing," he said, and his smile slipped a bit. "You make it very, very hard to keep acting like I hate you."

"Isn't that the point?" Harry asked, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Draco frowned.

"You're going to regret this one day," he replied quietly and then he walked out of the room with the bowl in hand, ready to prepare a snack for the both of them. Harry must have sensed that he wanted to be alone because despite what Draco thought would happen, the brunette didn't follow him. He just sat with a strange expression on his face, staring at the blond's retreating back and thinking about the implications of that last sentence.

* * *

><p>By the time the two crawled into bed together, exhausted but happy, Draco had fallen harder for Harry than he ever had for anyone else before. He felt more for the stupid boy wonder than he ever did for Pansy or Blaise or any random fling, felt more at home in Harry's arms than he ever did in his actual house, and he felt <em>happy<em> for the first time in years - something he thought that he would never feel again. Harry had shown him something that he never thought he'd get back; he'd shown him _normalcy_, home comforts, things like soap opera dubs and bowls of popcorn, home cooked meals and the chore of washing dishes (an activity that took the pair of them an hour longer than necessary because they couldn't keep their hands off each other and Draco refused to use magic). He baked biscuits for the first time in years and sat shirtless on the couch watching cartoons, fascinated by them, while Harry washed the flour from both of their shirts. He laughed, talked with Harry about life, about their favorite foods, favorite colors, stores, hobbies, animals, places. He drank wine and cuddled against the younger man who had so surprisingly taken him in so enthusiastically, who had shown him more in one night than he'd ever seen in a lifetime. He teased Harry relentlessly and the brunette matched his sarcasm with his own sharp tongue and then the two laughed it off, apologizing with small touches and light kisses. They did things that were so simply _normal_ and _natural_ that by the time Harry suggested going to bed, Draco had forgotten altogether that he and Harry had never liked one another and that they could never be together. In fact, those were the farthest thoughts from his mind.

"I still say," Draco said as he flopped down onto the mattress, turning onto his side to face Harry, "there is absolutely nothing wrong with liking pop music. I mean it's a little-"

"Gay."

"-yes _that_, Potter, but you'd think that wouldn't matter much to you, you giant pouf. Besides, it just gets stuck in your head..."

"N*SYNC, though, Malfoy?"

"When I leave you, I'll be singing Bye Bye Bye."

"Oh please," Harry said, the usual mischievous glint in his eye becoming somewhat predatory, "like you'd leave me."

Draco knew that look - by then, he knew it well. He tried scrambling away, muttering, "Shit, no no no no no," quickly under his breath but Harry was faster than he was - he soon found himself pinned, Harry pulling back his wrists to attack him with kisses. Everywhere. On his nose, his cheek, his neck, his hair, his eyelids. Wherever he could gain access to while keeping Draco in place. "Get off!" the blond cried, laughing. "Get off you fat piece of shit."

"Oh Draco that hurts. I think I'll sit here longer until it stops hurting."

"Fuck, no, you're _crushing_ me."

"You love it," Harry hissed in reply, grinding his hips down onto Draco's, causing the blond to groan.

"No, no, Potter, we can't. Not again."

It was like something broke then and there. Realization flashed in Harry's eyes, and he released Draco's wrists as he sat back onto the other man's knees. Draco himself felt his eyes widen, felt his heart start to beat faster as he watched every possible emotion flicker through Harry's eyes, as though he wasn't sure which one to feel. Finally it settled on something too close to pity for Draco's liking, and he sat up, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck to pull him down again. The brunette gave in, though the kiss he gave him wasn't nearly as insistent as it would have been just seconds before. Draco felt his heart sink, but he tried his best to repair his damage.

"I didn't say you could leave," he teased quietly, and Harry smiled, brushing his lips with his thumb.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied gently. Then the two exchanged a couple more kisses before Harry moved to the side again, keeping an arm tight around Draco's waist as he pulled him closer, allowed him to snuggle against him. "I hope you had the best night," he continued in that same gentle voice, and Draco was happy they weren't facing one another so that Harry didn't have to see the look of pain that he was sure to have on his face. "I hope you want to do it again. Soon." _For the rest of your life_ was the implication left hanging in the air, but the blond absolutely refused to grab hold of it. He couldn't.

"I hope I get the chance," Draco replied carefully, and that seemed to be enough for Harry. He felt a warm kiss on the back of his neck, heard a quiet, "Goodnight," and then it was silent, save for the sound of Harry's breathing and the shifting of bodies trying to remain comfortable on a bed that was used to just one. Finally, though, Harry's breathing grew heavier and the shifting stopped, and Draco allowed the sound of another man's breathing to lull him to sleep, not wanting to lie awake alone to depress himself with thoughts of normalcy, love, and what could have been.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Promises mean everything/  
>When you're little  
>And the world is so big  
>I just don't understand how  
>You can smile with all those tears in your eyes  
>When you tell me everything is wonderful now."<em>

Draco's eyes snapped awake. He knew that song. No, not song. _Ringtone_. He knew that ringtone and he knew it well. _Nick._

"SHIT."

Draco scrambled out of bed, out of Harry's arms, and on the bed, he heard Harry begin to stir.

"Whassamatter?"

"It's just my-SHIT, where's my phone? Nick is just...AH. Here it is."

Draco didn't care how stupid he looked, scrambling on the ground to retrieve his cell phone from under his bed. He motioned for Harry to be quiet by raising a finger to his lips and the brunette just turned over, ready to go back to sleep. Rolling his eyes, Draco answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"'Ello? That's all you've got to say to me?"

"Hello _sir_?"

"Very cute, Malfoy, but I don't pay you to be cute. Where the fuck are you?"

Draco cringed. He knew he had made a mistake - he had forgotten to call Nick to tell him that he wasn't going to get home. "I am...back at my flat. Sorry. I forgot I was supposed to be back at the, uhm. House."

"Is that right?" Draco heard a crash and cringed again. "Because I decided to visit your lovely little 'ome when you didn't turn up last night. And guess what I found, Draco?" Another crash. Draco's heart was pounding now. "Where the _fuck_ are you, Malfoy?"

"I-I..."

"I-I? Sorry, I'm not familiar with that place. Care to tell me where it is?"

"Look, Nick, the guy last night just paid a little extra and-"

"OH you're with the 427 still. Our little _celebrity_ customer, aye?"

Draco glanced toward the bed, where Harry was lying with a curious look on his face. "Well, I wouldn't say...I mean, he was paying me more to just stay and-"

"Oh? And you knew how much to charge, didja? Didn't care to check with little ol' me, right? Because o' course I got nothin' to do with what you and Mr. _Potter_ do together-"

"Don't say his name," Draco hissed, avoiding Harry's gaze and moving quickly toward the bathroom to get to someplace where he could be alone. "What are you, bloody stupid? What if someone found out?"

"Good question, Mr. Malfoy. What if someone found out?"

Shit, shit, _shit_. He knew this was a bad idea. Of course Scabior would know who his 427 was - they had been on the phone together for Merlin's sake! Was Draco really so stupid as to believe that Scabior wouldn't recognize Harry's voice? That Harry would know who _Scaboir_ was but he wouldn't know who Harry was? True, Potter probably didn't fear just a common Snatcher that he had already evaded once before in the past, but he didn't seem to understand that this was Draco's _boss_. He could make their lives Hell for a little stunt like this. He stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as the flipped on the light. "No one's going to find out, Nick. It was just...it was a one time thing, and he's going to pay extra. It's not a big deal."

"I think you should let me decide what is a big deal and what isn't. And I think this is sort o' a big deal."

Draco bit his lip. "No, it's not going to happen again."

"No. I suppose it ain't."

He didn't like the sound of that. Scabior sounded almost...amused by this point. "I'll bring you the extra cash as soon as I can. I _promise_."

"Hm. Well, I do like that money. It helps a bit."

The lock on the door suddenly clicked, and Draco raised his head in time to see the door open slowly, Harry lifting a finger to his lips so that Draco didn't cry out. The blond just stared at him.

"I'm going to need a little more payback than that, though, Mr. Malfoy."

"You know you get whatever you want for free," Draco frowned. "Whatever you want, whenever. Can't I just do some of that and be done with it?"

Scabior laughed and Draco tried not to cringe again as he watched Harry take a seat on the side of his bathtub, watching him intently.

"You're funny, Draco. That's why I keep you around. I figured that was all sort o' implied. Nah a little bit o' sexual favor here, some money there...I need some reassurance that this ain't gonna happen again, though. Because you know what it's called when you give it out for free like that?" Draco cringed. "Stealing."

"Nick, it won't happen again. You're just going to have to trust me on this. I'll give you your sex-" Here Harry looked up, alarmed, "-I'll give you your money but that's the best I can do. I wouldn't lie to you. It will never happen again."

"We'll discuss it later, Draco. Just get your ass 'ome. Your flat. We'll make it nice and cozy for you."

Draco shivered and Nick hung up; then it was just him and Harry in that small bathroom, Harry giving him an incredulous look while Draco tried adamantly to avoid his eyes. He'd rather that Harry didn't hear any of that - anything that indicated how exactly he paid for his misdeeds when it came to his boss. In fact, Draco would be satisfied if Harry never had to hear any end of _any_ conversation with Scabior, ever. The very idea that he even called him and wrote him to get Draco into his suite was enough to make the blond sick. He didn't say anything, though. He just sat there and allowed Harry to absorb what he could from the side of the conversation he heard.

"I don't want you to sleep with him," Harry finally said quietly, searching Draco's face for any sign that it was all just some sort of joke. "I don't. He's a dirty pimp, Draco, and he's just taking advantage of you-"

"Potter-"

"No don't _Potter_ me!" His voice raised to a shout and Draco cringed again - he seemed to be doing that a lot this morning. "You are so much better than this! I thought we established this last night. I thought we got it all figured out."

"I told you last night that it was a one time thing," Draco said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I told you last night...I told you I didn't love you."

"No, shut up, this isn't about...whether or not you love me. This is about what it is that you deserve to be doing." Harry stood up, walking up to Draco and grabbing his hips. "What about all that stuff about wishing to be a Healer? What about all those conversations we had about living a normal life? Draco, what happened?"

"What happened was that you paid for last night!" Draco said angrily, pushing against Harry. The brunette fell back, shocked. "I told you, Potter. I am a prostitute. I can't just...let you tell me a whole bunch of pretty shit and then turn my back on everything I have built up. If I leave Nick's employment, I might as well be dead because he will take away _everything_." He shook his head, trying to lower his voice again. "Potter, you don't understand. He could ruin you; he _will_ ruin me. If I can even be ruined any further. Last night was fun but you have to remember that it was time on the job. You can't...You can't trust anything that happened. I'm paid to do what you want me to...and so I did." He met Harry's gaze then and his heart shattered at the look of pain he found there. "I'm sorry. But I told you you would regret this. This isn't the way it goes for us."

"Draco, if you would just give me a chance to-"

"No, Potter! Merlin, can't you stop being a sodding _Gryffindor_ for five seconds and realize that this is the real world now? This isn't some fantasy place where all of a sudden you come in and we fall in love and suddenly rainbows and sunshine start shining out our arses. That is not realistic." Harry took a step back, hurt, and didn't try to argue back again. Draco was nearly shaking with anger, with disappointment, with the knowledge that he had to let Harry go. This couldn't happen again. "You didn't think about me for years. We spent years without seeing each other, and you found love and I found...I found Nick. Now please - go back to that. Go back to Ginny and hiring prostitutes on the side because this...This is never going to happen. There's no point in pretending."

And then he was gone - he was gone and he didn't care that he left behind his jacket or that he was just in his socks when he made it to the elevator. He didn't care that he got weird looks from the employees as he stormed out the doors of the hotel; he didn't even care that he forgot to get his money from Harry. He knew that he'd send it. It wasn't like Harry to go back on his word. He just cared that he got as far away from Harry as possible because he had done what he said he wouldn't. He had gotten involved. Emotionally invested. And that wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. That wasn't how he was going to keep the two of them safe.

When he got home, sure as day, there was an owl waiting for him on the sidewalk outside his building and when he retrieved the envelope it was carrying, he knew it had to be the money. This was Harry doing his job. On the outside in messy scrawl, it simply said, "_Draco. You are worth so much more than this_," but Draco pretended not to care. He opened it, grabbed the money, and then crumpled up the envelope and threw it on the ground.

When he got up to his flat, Scabior was already there, and when he met his boss with a lustful kiss and shoved the money in the back pocket of Nick's jeans, it was all he could do not to cry at the fact that he had just thrown out the first person to ever find any worth in him in order to keep the semi-happiness he had gained under Nick's rule.

* * *

><p>"Guess who." It was a familiar scene - Scabior leaning up against Draco's doorframe with a cellphone in hand, smirking down at him because he knew that he had the upperhand in this relationship. It was sick. But it was familiar and it was home, so Draco didn't bother to even try and look annoyed.<p>

"Another rich fat bastard who likes blonds?" he said, bored, and Scabior laughed.

"Close. It's your little lover boy."

Draco hoped to god that the blank expression he'd been practicing over the past few days was paying off then. He really did. Because he didn't want Scabior to know that his comment was the equivalent of stabbing him in the gut with an extremely sharp and long knife. He couldn't let his boss know that he really cared. He just couldn't. It had been two weeks since he had left Harry's suite - two long weeks and ever since, the brunette hadn't tried to contact him again. And Draco told himself that it was for the best, that he would be happier with Ginny than he ever would with him. But it didn't stop it from hurting. And it didn't stop him from wanting to hex the stupid smirk off Scabior's face as he stared down at him with Harry waiting so patiently on the phone.

"Everyone's my little lover boy," Draco said coolly. "Please be more specific."

"Your 427. Slumber party buddy. The one who hasn't stopped bloody calling me all week."

Draco sat up in bed then. "You didn't mention me getting an extra caller all week, Nick. What the fuck, that's a _lot_ of money I could have been making there."

"Yeah. Money." Scabior smirked and then tossed the phone at Draco. "Come find me when you're done telling him to sod off. He won't listen to me when I say you don't wanna be near the damn kid."

Then he walked off, leaving Draco alone to do his dirty work. Again. Great. Draco sighed.

"_Yes_, Potter?"

"I requested your services again. Apparently Nick doesn't trust me."

"And neither do I, so I suppose it's another reason I'm better off with him."

"Draco, don't be like that..."

"Like what? I told you, Potter, it was a one time thing. Why do you keep trying to get a hold of me?"

"Because I love you."

"_No_ you don't! And watch when you say this shit, what if Nick heard you?"

"I'm not going to start lying just because you're a little scared of your stupid pimp."

"Well you should! I have! And look - I'm perfectly happy. Imagine that."

"No you're not...but let's not get on that. Listen, Draco, I do have a reason for calling."

"Wonderful. My answer is no."

"Okay first of all, if you're taking this being a man whore thing seriously, you don't have the right to tell me 'no'. Secondly, it's not that you git. Just tell me where you live."

"_What?_"

"Not like...Nick or anything. You. Personally. I know you have another place; Nick told me once when I called and you were there and not...here."

"Potter, that's really not something I should tell you..."

"I'll find out one way or another, Malfoy, I figured getting it from you would just be the most honest route. I'm not above doing a little dirty work to get the information, though."

"Potter..."

"Just tell me."

"No!"

He could almost see Harry's smirk. "Alright then. Game on."

Then the other line went dead and Draco was left staring at the phone, wondering what stupid thing Potter was going to get him into now.

* * *

><p>"Kidnap! Really, Potter, <em>this<em> is your fucking plan for getting me to like you? _Kidnap?_"

"Think of it as a kinky game, if it helps you to cope with it," Harry smirked, sitting down in an armchair in the large room they were now in. "I know things on those type of terms are easier for you to understand."

Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly - of all the childish schemes that he had figured Potter would turn to in order to talk to him again, he hadn't even let the word _kidnap_ cross his mind. It was too...petty, too obvious, too very _simple_ that he honestly thought that Harry was above and beyond that. Obviously, he was wrong because when he arrived back at his flat that very same night, the stupid Auror had grabbed him by his arm and Disapparated on the spot - a smart thing to do as Draco hadn't had time to grab his wand or get anywhere near his Sneakascope to warn him of danger. Damn Potter. Damn him and his stupid war tactics to Hell.

He wasn't really sure where they were, either. It wasn't any house he was familiar with and it wasn't Harry's suite either. It was small if not cozy, though from what he could tell it was old and he could see everything from where he was on the couch. Oh and he was bound there. Tied up. A real hostage.

For some reason, that seemed to put a dampener on just how cozy the house seemed to be.

"Well was this really necessary?" He gestured with his eyes at the ropes on his wrists and ankles and at Harry's smirk he quickly added, "And if you make one more kinky sex joke, I swear on Merlin's grave I will kill you."

Harry just laughed, and Draco hated himself for thinking it was somewhat charming. "I just wanted to be sure you wouldn't leave," he said, as if it was normal to tie up prostitutes after kidnapping them from their houses. "You seem to be in the habit of leaving me when I want you to stay."

"It's not my job to stay, Potter."

"Can you just forget about your job?" Harry snapped, and Draco found himself feeling guilty for reasons unknown. "Honestly, Draco, there is more to you than what you do for money. I know there is."

"You can't trust anything that happened that night-"

"You mean you don't want me to." Draco quieted. "You don't want me to trust anything that happened because for some reason you're terrified of...of being normal."

"I'm not terrified of being normal, Potter," Draco said quietly. "I'm terrified of you."

Silence fell between them and Draco took the opportunity to pull against his restrains in an attempt to loosen them. It didn't help much; Harry had used magic to bind him and no wizard could escape that by any Muggle means. For the first time in a long time, he longed to have his wand by his side. At least then he wouldn't feel so powerless. Even Scabior, after all, allowed him his wand. Frustrated when a full minute went by without any results, Draco sat back with a huff. Across from him, Harry smiled softly.

"If you promise not to leave, I'll untie you."

"You're sounding more and more like a serial killer with every passing second, Potter." But he must have looked pretty pathetic because with a flick of his wand, Potter released him anyway. Draco rubbed his wrists and glared at Harry. But he stayed put. He stayed put and that was all that seemed to matter to the man sitting across from him.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" He was met with a curious gaze. "From this night, I mean. What do you want from me? Do you expect me to just be oh so very charmed by your ability to kidnap me? Do you expect me to stay and fall in love? To throw away everything I have because you're being...selfish?" No reply. "I'm just curious, there's no need to look so offended."

"When was the last time someone took care of you, Draco?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, when was the last time someone took care of you? You know, healed your wounds. Talked to you about what you were upset about. Told you that it was going to be okay. Other than a few weeks ago." Draco didn't have a response for him. "When was the last time someone asked you what you wanted? Or the last time they put your needs before theirs?" Again, he had nothing to say. "And when was the last time you felt like you needed to be taken care of?" He had to stop himself from replying to that. He had to remind himself that he couldn't show any sign that he wasn't happy. Because if Harry knew that every time Draco got back from a job, he felt more and more broken or that every time Scabior had him repay his debts, he felt dirty, filthy, and worthless, he would never be left alone. Harry wouldn't rest until he had somehow gotten him to quit. And he couldn't live with himself if he got Harry involved in all of this.

Harry, however, didn't seem to need a response. He walked over to the couch where Draco sat, getting down on his knees in front of him and putting his hands on his knees. "Draco, look at me." He did. "I know that I'm not acting rationally. Trust me, I've always been aware of the fact that I'm not the most emotionally stable bloke in the world. But I have been completely infatuated with you for years and years, and to finally find you again was...it was a miracle. I never thought that I'd see you again. I thought I could survive by just...stumbling around hiring prostitutes on the side pretending to love Ginny because I no longer had temptation in front of me like I did at Hogwarts. But I can't. It's not enough. I've tried going back to her in these past weeks, I have, but even holding her feels wrong because she's a lot smaller than you are and it just doesn't...it doesn't feel _right_." Draco tried to look away; he honestly did. The look Harry was giving him was the right blend of too much affection and sheer desperation to make him feel completely sick. But he couldn't. He couldn't break eye contact, no matter how hard he tried. "I know that for some reason, you refuse to believe me when I say I can make things better for you. I know that you think that you don't love me, and you know what? I'm okay with that. You don't have to love me. But you have _got_ to stop lying to yourself and saying that you're happy the way you are. I saw you happy. I saw you when we were kids playing Quidditch and I saw you in the kitchen a few weeks ago throwing an egg at my head because I told you that you looked really gay in the apron you were wearing." They both smiled. "I'm just trying to take care of you, Draco. And what I want is for you to let me."

That would have been a great time to leave. It would have really worked out well if he had just gotten up off the couch and told Harry that he was being ridiculous and stupid and cheesy like he always was. Then maybe Harry would have left him alone and maybe he could someone find happiness working with Nick and maybe they'd forget about each other and maybe things would work out. Maybe.

But Harry's hands were just so _warm_ on his knees, even through the fabric of his pants, and his gaze was so affectionate, his expression so pure, and whether he liked it or not, Draco _was_ really tired. Tired of pretending and acting and smiling like everything was okay, like life was normal, like this was what he wanted. And what he wanted more than anything was to go back and find his mum and get her out of Azkaban and have her hold him like she used to, have her stroke his hair and make him tea and say, "Shh, Draco, it's okay, it's okay, it's all going to work out in the end," because to be honest, it was easy to believe that the world was right when somebody said it in the right tone of voice. So instead of fighting back like he knew he was supposed to, he felt himself weaken under Harry once more, and even though he knew he would regret it and it would somehow come back to bite him in the arse, Draco found himself signing his own death warrant with a quiet, "Okay, Harry. Whatever you want."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I am very sorry to have left you all hanging and then come back with this...whatever it is. I don't even have the proper word to describe it. Hogwash. Let's try that one on for size. Anyhow, I'll probably severely edit it later but I hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry again for having taken so long to update. I love you all and God bless. xo. **  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

For at least a month following, life was perfect. It was surprisingly easy to avoid Scabior during the day. Excuses of "I need to go shopping" or "I promised some friends I'd meet them for lunch," were thrown out often, and seeing as Draco hadn't gone out in ages, Scabior believed him. He didn't have any reason not to. Draco had never lied before, and when it came straight down to it, he didn't believe the blond had it in him to lie well anymore. Maybe the Malfoys used to be the deceptors of the wizarding world but those days were long gone. Draco had been under his care for three years - three long, submissive years. He didn't have it in him to be a Malfoy anymore. He had lost everything that he used to be.

But little did his employer know, Draco was starting to remember. He was starting to remember why he had once walked through the halls of Hogwarts with his head held high, why everyone in Slytherin used to look at him with respect. He was beginning to recall who he was - Draco Malfoy, pureblood. Draco Malfoy, top student in Slytherin house, beat only in his year by Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy, intelligent young man. Master potions brewer. Skilled wizard. He was beginning to recognize again the face that stared back at him in the mirror - his eyes were no longer dull and his expressions no longer looked foreign. He looked as he used to before the war, before he took the Mark. Alive. Purposeful. And he could deny it all he wanted, but he had one person to thank for his return of character.

Harry. If someone had told him five years ago that Harry Potter was going to become such a central figure in his life, Draco would have hexed them then and there. Five years ago, he wanted nothing to do with Harry Potter; he didn't want anything to do with anyone, really. He was so broken, broken for the first time, and the only thing he could focus on was his family. Staying alive. Keeping _them_ alive. If someone had told him that Harry Potter could fix him, he would have told them that Harry Potter was who broke him. But he knew differently now.

Now he knew that Harry would be there for him when he was at his worst. That he would hold him when he felt like crying and kiss him until the sobs subsided and then kiss him for even longer for good measure. He knew that if he were ever to run low on grocery money, Harry would be there, and if a customer hurt him, Harry would tend to his wounds. He knew that bad dreams wouldn't be as bad if he was able to wake up to Harry's smiling face, and he knew that if he ever felt like no one would love him, Harry would sit down and explain everything he liked about him. He knew that Harry would put up with the return of his sarcasm; he knew that Harry would even respond with his own playful banter. He knew this because Harry did it every day, every chance he got, and he never let Draco forget it. When Draco was at home, he sent him letters; when he was at Scabior's, he sent a Patronus. When they were together, he whispered promises quietly to him, and even though half of the time he was just saying things to keep Draco laughing, some of them were sincere and caring and loving. At nights, he either held Draco from under that Invisibility Cloak of his or paid to keep him all night from different aliases. And when he couldn't do that, he left with small gifts to keep Draco through the night - sometimes food to fuel his ridiculous sweet tooth but more often than not clothes (scarves, shirts, socks) to remind him that he was there. He existed. This was real.

And for a while, Draco remembered what it was like to be happy. He'd sit on the floor of Harry's suite, back rested against the couch while Harry sat opposite of him and told him stories about their world. And Draco would laugh and call him daft and throw popcorn at him until it got stuck in his hair and then Harry would throw it back until it was a full blown war. And then they'd abandon the food and start poking and pinching and wrestling and then kissing and touching until they got so lost that they couldn't remember why they were teasing each other in the first place. All they knew was skin and sweat and love and time and that was all that mattered. To Hell with the world. Because they had each other.

But as both men knew, there was no such thing as a perfect world. Reality wasn't going to pause itself because they had finally found one another. Harry would eventually go home; Draco would eventually go back to working more and more.

It was nice to pretend for a while, though. To act like it was forever.

One day, though, reality caught up with them. One day, Draco stayed a little too late for one too many times, and it didn't escape Scabior's notice. One day, he returned to his flat after taking money from another satisfied customer and found his boss sitting on his couch, playing with a dragon figurine.

"'Ello, Draco," Scabior said, a sinister grin on his face. "Running a bit late tonight, are we?"

Draco took off his jacket, hanging it calmly on a rack near the door while hoping the rapid beating of his heart wasn't too apparent. "I'm right on time by my watch," he responded, a bit too quietly, and Scabior shook his head.

"Draco, Draco, Draco..."

He waved the blond over to him. "Come, come. Let's 'ave a little talk."

Draco took a seat next to Nick on the couch, heat rising in his cheeks as he tried to think of anything he had done to give him and Harry away. It couldn't have been the marks - Harry was always careful not to leave any defining ones and besides, those could easily come from over-enthusiastic customers. Was he being tracked? That was possible; though he was meeting up with Harry Potter of all people. He would be protected from tracking charms, wouldn't he? Being the bloody Chosen One and all. Savior of the Wizarding world. That stuff had its perks. Maybe someone gave them away? But who would do that? Who _knew_?

"What do you want to talk about?" Draco tried to keep his voice even, flat, without a hint of panic. For the most part, he thought he succeeded.

"Don't sound so distressed, love," Scabior laughed and Draco found himself burning brighter. Damn. He was losing his touch. "It's not like I'm too angry with ya..." He slung his arm up onto the back of the couch, extending his fingers to stroke Draco's cheek. "It's nothing we can't work on."

Draco swallowed thickly, trying not to show his discomfort. This was normal. Scabior was allowed to touch him. He didn't need to be so jumpy.

"Now, Draco. Jus' tell me why you been givin' away my services for free."

"I-I don't-"

"Don't even try to play stupid, love, though you're incredibly good at it. I make my livin' deceivin' idiots into thinkin' something that ain't true. Don't think I don't know that you've been seeing our dear Mr. Potter for the past...weeks." Draco didn't say anything, though he did cast his gaze to the ground. Scabior sighed deeply. "Draco, I'm not angry with you. Knowin' that boyfriend of yours, 'e will be payin' me back one day. Goodness o' 'is 'eart or somethin'. I jus' want to know what bullshit it is he's selling you to get you to-"

"It's not bullshit," Draco cut in. Scabior smiled.

"Oh ho ho, I see I've touched a nerve. What is it then, Draco? 'E tellin' you that 'e loves you? That 'e don't care about what you do?"

"He's not just _telling_ me," the blond said through clenched teeth. "He means it."

"Right, right, and I'm Minister for Magic, ain't I?" Draco said nothing. "Oi, don't be like that, love. I'm jus' tryin' to protect you."

"No, you're trying to keep me!" A sudden flash of Draco, the old Draco, ran through the man and he stood to start pacing the room, trying to figure out where his confidence was stemming from. "You're just trying to keep me from finding something...something bigger than you! Like you think I'm going to do this forever."

"Draco, you _are_ goin' to do this forever," Scabior laughed, sitting back on the couch. "Where else you gonna go in life? With Potter? Back 'ome? I'm sure that'll go swimmingly..."

"Harry wouldn't let anything happen to me," Draco said, pausing in his stride to face his boss, and again, the former Snatcher laughed.

"Oh, it's 'Arry now, is it? O' course, o' course..."

"Don't take that tone when you talk about him," Draco snarled. "Harry loves me. He wouldn't let anything happen to me, even if we did go back."

"And I suspect 'e told you that, right? All pretty words and guarantees to make you take off those expensive clothes o' yours and let him fuck you into tomorrow mornin'..."

"This isn't about _sex_ with him, Scabior, he can get that anywhere-"

"Ahh, and 'e did, didn't 'e? 'Til 'e found a sucker to give it to 'im for free."

"Shut up!" Draco shouted, furiously digging through his pockets before remembering he no longer carried his wand on him. He settled for beginning his pacing again as he tried his damnedest to keep Scabior's words out of his head. No, Harry loved him. He did, always had. This wasn't some...stupid sex thing. With _Scabior_ it was a stupid sex thing. Stupid, juvenile...Something he could leave behind. Harry wasn't like that. Harry was permanent. Forever. He was. Wasn't he?

"Draco," Scabior said quietly, almost piteously, and he stood to walk toward the younger man. He reached his hand out to touch him, to attempt to be comforting, and the Malfoy heir pulled away. "Draco, come on. I didn't mean nothin' by it." But still, he shrank away from the touch. "Hey, now I like you. That's why I'm bein' so kind. Don't take advantage o' that and jus' take the damn comfort." This time, Draco stayed put and Scabior was able to get a firm grip on his shoulder. "Now listen to me," he said, leaning in close. "I don't care that you still seein' Potter. I don't. But I do care that you're givin' away my wares and my business for free. That ain't the way it works. So you're going to tell him that it's gotta stop." Draco looked up, alarmed, but Scabior shushed him before he could speak. "I'm serious 'ere. It's all fun and shits and giggles until you start fallin' for a bloke that lies like that and _don't give me that look, Draco Malfoy, _because 'e is lying. That's all types like 'im do. They go and play with your 'eart and then you quit, I lose business, and 'e leaves you in a state where you're not ready to come back. It 'appens all the time. Guys like him always come around, playing 'ero, like they're rescuing you by breakin' you like that. But I promise you, 'e will leave you. 'E's 'Arry freakin' Potter for Merlin's sake. You really think 'e gonna give up all that 'e got for a git like you? Because you paid 'im a sexual favour or five? Come on, Draco. Use that brain o' yours that you like to brag so much about. Does that seem damn near likely?" Draco didn't respond still, and Scabior gave him a sad smile. "I 'ate to see you frown, love, but think like a Slytherin 'ere, not a bloody Gryffindor. 'Appy endin's are for kids and Hufflepuffs, not us underworld folk. That's just not the way the story ends."

Scabior then pulled away and placed a chaste kiss on Draco's forehead, like a mother would to a child. "Come back to my place later tonight and we'll make up for lost time," he said, taking a few steps toward the door. "I expect you to stay all night, too. No funny business. You can owl 'im to say goodbye." He straightened the blazer he was wearing before looking back at Draco once more. "Don't let 'im play you, love," he said quietly. "Don't be that bloody guy. Surely you had to know that we'd 'ave this talk sooner or later?" Draco's stricken expression and silence were answer enough. "Until tonight then, love."

Then he Disapparated, leaving Draco standing in his living room, reality closing in around him like a cage.

* * *

><p><em>Potter,<br>I once told you that we were not how the story ends. I stand by that  
>to this very day. You and I were never going to ride off into the sunset<br>on a white fucking horse with happiness and rainbows shining out our  
>arses. And while I know you never expected us to, we're never going to<br>have any variation of that either._

_This has to stop. It was fun, but it was lies, lies and excuses for your bloody  
>hero complex to shine through again, and we both know it. Don't come calling<br>around again. I'm a whore, Potter. Blokes like me don't...we don't fall in love or  
>live normal lives or do anything you were trying to get me to do. We just don't.<em>

_It was fun, but come on. You're Harry Potter. I'm hardly Draco Malfoy. This  
>was going to end eventually, so I figure it should happen before it gets too painful.<br>Please don't go playing hero again. I don't need to be rescued. I'm not that guy.  
>This isn't us.<em>

_Give Ginny my love. _

_No, on second thought, let her know I still fucking hate her. Weasleys. Honestly._

_Cheers,  
>Draco<em>

* * *

><p>"You have got to be the stupidest bloody person on the face of the planet if you honestly thought that was a letter that sincerely said you wanted me to stay away," Harry hissed into Draco's ear, making the blond jump in his bed. "A bloody fucking moron, you are. Always have been."<p>

"_Harry_? What the_ fuck_? _What do you think you're doing here?_" Draco whispered urgently, angrily to his bedside, where he now knew Harry was crouched, hidden beneath that bloody Cloak of his no doubt. "What in Merlin's name possessed you to think that this was anything like what that letter I wrote suggested? You have to be mentally disturbed-"

"Oh don't talk to me about being mentally touched, Malfoy, when you're the king of crazy! What in the world possessed you to write that? Have you been Imperiused? Is Nick threatening you?"

"How did you even _find_ me? Bloody Hell, Potter, you defeat one Dark Lord and suddenly you think you have the right to track down whores-"

"Stop using that word!"

The pair of them fell silent as the sound of footsteps sounded outside Draco's door. The blond held his breath, just waiting for Scabior to break in and by some horrible miracle find Harry and throw him out. But somehow, his boss's insane knack for finding out hidden secrets was failing him that night because the sound of footsteps soon disappeared down the hall. When Draco turned his gaze back to his bedside, he had to cover his mouth to keep from shouting. Harry had taken the Cloak off and was staring him with such an angry intensity that it made him want to cry.

"Is that all you think you are to me, Draco?" the brunette hissed. "A bloody tramp? Have you not been listening to _anything_ I've said over the past month?"

"Harry, I-"

"No, shut up, you're always trying to talk too soon. I'm serious, Draco. I didn't find excuses to stay away from Ginny to hang out with some high class hooker. I didn't go through the trouble of putting up those defensive spells a-and bloody disguises because you're just some prostitute I wanted to shag. _I have money_, you stupid git. If that's all you were to me, I have the bloody means to keep using you like that." He placed his hands on Draco's knees to keep his balance, looking up to keep eye contact. "I told you that I was going to take care of you. I told you that I was going to make you remember who it is you are and what it is that you deserve, but you planned on just sitting here and telling me that that's not how our story goes?"

"Scabior knows, Harry!" Draco hissed desperately, almost pleadingly. "This can't carry on, you're in too much danger-"

"Yes because a stupid Snatcher I've already eluded several times is such a threat."

"-_I'm_ in too much danger! Don't talk over me, Harry, this is my boss. This is everything I've built up ever since you and your bloody alliances tossed me out of our world."

"Oh don't play that card with me, Draco Malfoy, I thought we settled this-"

"How could we have settled _anything_? You mean with the stupid shit you say before we shag, while we shag, or after it's over? Because that's not settling, it's stupid, stupid lies and I was a moron to believe-"

"They were the truth!"

"-you could care anything about me! You're Harry Potter."

Harry stared up at him incredulously, mouth falling open in something that could be shock. "_So?_"

"Well, _so_-" Draco cut himself off. Honestly, he didn't have a response to that. Why _was_ it such a big deal that he was Harry Potter? Why was that a reason why they could never be together? He couldn't remember. In fact, with Harry so close, with Harry actually _touching_ him, he was forgetting why he had ever thought that Scabior's stupid words were even good arguments at all.

"Draco, why does it matter who I am?" Harry said softly, beginning to rub slow circles over Draco's pajama bottoms. "What does me being who I am have to do with anything?"

"Harry, you don't understand," Draco started, his voice pleading, but Harry started talking before he could go any further.

"No, _you_ don't understand. I love you, Draco. _Love_. I always have, you know this. What did he say to make you doubt that? What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything," Draco said, glancing nervously toward the door. "It's just...Harry, just a former Snatcher or not, you have to understand, this is his world now..."

"But he's still under the jurisdiction of ours," Harry countered, sounding slightly amused. "Draco, he worked with the Death Eaters. Like you, he has tracks on him. They know where he is, who he curses, what he's doing...You have to trust me. You can't be afraid of him anymore; he's just holding you back. You're better than this."

"I've just built up so much..." Draco was running out of arguments and they both knew it. "Harry, you don't understand. He is practically my life force; he could kill me."

"I never thought I'd see this day," Harry murmured, that amused smirk still resting on his face. "Draco Malfoy, scared of a dirty ol' Snatcher."

"Oh, shut up," Draco said, though he glanced nervously toward the door anyway. As if Scabior was going to burst in at any given moment, even if he was supposed to be asleep.

"Mm, and here I was thinking Malfoys didn't fear their inferiors," Harry teased, and Draco scowled, though he pushed Harry's hair affectionately away from his eyes in spite of himself.

"What do you know about being a Malfoy?"

"A hell of a lot more than you, apparently," was the amused reply, and then they were both laughing, quietly, almost silently, and Harry was pushing himself up and Draco was leaning down and then they were kissing, kissing like they usually did when they were alone, like everything would be okay as long as their lips were touching. It was slow and deep and passionate, and something inside of Draco seemed to break - something inside him always seemed to break around Harry and he felt the Draco of the present start to be taken over by the past once more, the Draco who used to believe in things like power and redemption for a man like himself. And then Harry was kissing down his cheek, along his jawline, and descending down his neck, careful nips accompanied by a soothing tongue sending fire through Draco's veins. Why had he believed that he could give this up? Why had he believed Scabior could be right for once?

"Harry," he murmured breathlessly, but it was all he could manage before Harry began descending down his still-clothed torso, his warm breath slipping through the threads onto the most sensitive areas of Draco's chest. He nudged his nose into Draco's navel and the blond let out a quiet, shuddering breath.

"When was the last time you let someone take care of you?" Harry asked quietly, his words just a whisper against Draco's shirt, and then he began to fumble with the ties on Draco's pajama bottoms. Draco whimpered. Harry managed to get the strings loosened and was running his fingers along the fabric on Draco's hips when he paused, looking up to establish eye contact. The combination of lust and adoration made Draco's heart skip a beat, and it took a minute before he recognized the regret hidden in there as well. "I have to go back home tomorrow."

"Home?" He didn't even know if his voice was audible - between trying not to let his voice crack and not wanting to believe what he heard, his voice had strangled out as less than a whisper.

"I mean home home. To...To Ginny a-and...not here."

Draco didn't respond. So this was what he was getting at - an apology before he had to apologize.

"I-I'll be back. In a week at the most, maybe less. Hopefully..."

"After you've patched things up with the suspicious missus." He sounded more hurt than accusing, and it made him cringe.

"Sort of." Draco's stomach turned. "But more like...gotten rid of." Draco stared down at him, suspicion appearing in his eyes. "You don't believe me."

It wasn't a question.

"I don't see how that will take a week."

Harry sighed and pressed a kiss onto Draco's thigh. "I'm doing more than just that. But it's a surprise. It won't take more than a week, though. You have to trust me."

Draco felt a smile tug at his lips. "I do."

He had never known oral sex to be more passionate. Normally it was something he avoided, and usually, he was never on the receiving end. But that was never the case with Harry. Harry always took care of him - Harry always took him to new heights he never knew he could reach, and coming from a man who reached climaxes for a living, that was saying a lot. Engulfed in the hot comfort of his lover's mouth, caressed by the smoothness of his lips, Draco had never felt safer. Every flick of the tongue was filled with promises, every sound brought a sense of possession. And when the brunette hallowed out his cheeks and took him farther in, Draco felt himself struggling for air as he came, mumbling a mix of swear words and Harry's name while his lover rubbed soothing circles on his legs. "I love you," he said quietly as Harry cleaned up their mess, tucking Draco back into his pajamas. And the confession was sincere and heartfelt, and he saw Harry's expression turn from stricken to satisfied as he realized what had just been said.

"I love you, too."

They kissed once, twice, thrice more before Harry Disapparated with a _crack_ which Draco tried to hide behind a coughing fit. A week - a week without Harry. Admittedly, it was better than a lifetime without Harry, which was what he thought he was up for, and knowing that it was a week to get rid of the one obstacle that was really Harry's fault was that much better. He could live with a week. Maybe.

The next morning, he noticed a note on his bedside table.

_Draco,  
>I hope this bloody charm works. Hermione taught it to me. This<br>should just look like a grocery list to anyone else. If it doesn't work  
>you have every right to criticize my right to be a wizard. I'm fine with<br>that. _

_I know a week might seem like a long time, so I left this for you to  
>read whenever you start to miss me. And don't deny it, I know you<br>will even if you won't say it out loud. Just remember I love you. And  
>I'm going to get you out of your...situation. And I will prove to you that<br>things will work out between us. Rainbows and sunshine shining out our  
>arses and all. <em>

_Mainly, though, I have a request - I know this is callous of me to ask in  
>a note but I didn't want to disturb what we had last night. Please, Draco,<br>I know it's your job to sleep with other people, but when you aren't getting  
>paid...I mean with Scabior...can you try to avoid it? For me. It kills me to think<br>that while I'm gone, he gets you and I don't. It kills me to think he ever gets  
>you. You're mine. Until I can get you out of there, I know you can't stop with<br>other men, but with him...for me...can you try to avoid it?_

_If not, I understand. It's just...yeah, it's fine. Just know I miss you already.  
>And I love you. And I'll be back soon.<em>

_Much love,  
>Harry<em>

Draco scanned the words carefully, reading them a few times before really realizing what Harry was implying with that final request. _Until I can get you out of there_ he wrote. And words from the previous night came flashing back to him. _I'm doing more than just that._

_Oh Harry,_ he found himself thinking, pursing his lips. _Harry, Harry, Harry..._

He wasn't going to give up, was he? No matter what Draco said, no matter how many times he explained that he couldn't be saved...but of course, that was who Harry was, wasn't it? Stupid bloody Gryffindor.

He couldn't love him more for it.

He requested an owl later that day and a servant allowed him to use one to send one note. On the outside of the folded piece of parchment, it said simply _Harry Potter_. On the inside, it had just one word. _Okay._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I decided something half-way through writing this. I'm going to try to get the story finished. There will probably be an epilogue but you won't see it for a few days or weeks until after I've finished. I'm going to finish the story, but once I've done that, I'm leaving it on 'incomplete' until I get it edited to be as good as I want it to be because right now, it's unbeta-ed by anyone else and unedited by me. So it's basically a rough draft. You'll know when it's in a 'complete' status when I do put the epilogue up and then you're free to read over the whole thing again and notice the changes. (: Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it. xo._ Only two more left and then editing, then the epilogue.  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

One week passed and Harry still hadn't returned. Draco tried not to think anything of it. In his head, he came up with excuses for the man. Maybe he got held up; maybe Weasel wasn't happy with his sister being dumped and was holding him for interrogative reasons. Maybe he was still figuring out how to best take care of Scabior; maybe he was even trying to figure out how to imprison him without incriminating Draco for his own illegal job. These were things that Draco forced himself to believe. These were things that _had_ to be happening. Because Harry wouldn't abandon him. No, Harry wouldn't give him hope and love and security and then snatch it all away. He wasn't that cruel, that vengeful. He wasn't just trying to hurt Draco for misdeeds of the past - he wasn't Slytherin enough to manage it. He was just being held up by technicalities and reality. That was all. Potter didn't quite seem to get a good grasp on what exactly 'reality' was. He just...he needed time.

But then another week passed and Draco was starting to get less and less certain that he was going to come back at all.

Still, though, he stuck by his promise. He went to his customers like he was supposed to. He did his job. He got his money. But instead of trying to take Scabior's physical thank you's or rewards, he went home. Instead of paying debts to his boss with sex, he just took the jobs no one else wanted. Scabior must have figured that he was just upset about having to stop seeing Harry because he didn't say anything - just pursed his lips in that disapproving way and shook his head, like Draco was a child who was misbehaving. But he knew it wouldn't last long. Eventually, Scabior would tell him to stop moping. Eventually, he would start to get more violent. Eventually, Draco would have to sleep with him whether he wanted to or not.

And so he prayed for Harry's return. Prayed that whatever he was doing wouldn't take much longer.

Another week passed.

He was starting to lose hope. Maybe Harry wasn't coming back. Maybe when he got home and tried to break it off with Ginny, he realized that he had been an idiot for the past month and a half. Maybe when he got home, she charmed him like she did before and he realized he wasn't really gay. Maybe when he got home, he realized he much preferred a life where he didn't have to sneak around and account for a man who made a living sleeping with other men. Maybe when he got home, he realized how little Draco actually meant.

A month had passed since Harry first left. If there was any hope of Harry ever returning, it was buried. Buried very, very deep within Draco, who had grown to be more reserved and bitter than before. His defenses were weakening. Scabior was getting angrier, and for what? For a promise made to him by a man that obviously wasn't coming back.

Then, one day, the expected conversation came. Scabior showed up at Draco's flat one afternoon unannounced, a scowl on his usually expressionless face. Draco let him in, not even bothering to fight it anymore. He could pretend friends were coming over. He could even pretend Ministry officials were going to pop in at any time to talk to him about visiting his parents. It had happened before. But...what was the point? What was the use? Harry had given up on him. Harry had forgotten him.

So he just opened the door and stood aside to let his boss in.

"You've been awful distant lately, love," Scabior said as he made himself at home, dropping his jacket on the floor and plopping down onto the couch. "And I let you 'cause I know losing that lover boy o' yours was hard but...you gotta get back to doin' your job."

"I _have been_ doing my job," Draco mumbled bitterly. Anger flashed in Scabior's eyes, but the blond was past caring. Caring was for those who didn't care if they got hurt.

"I meant the other..._favors_ that come along with your job," the former Snatcher hissed. "You've been neglecting me. I'm hurt, personally."

"It's just been rough."

Scabior sighed. "I know it has," he mumbled. "But just because I like you doesn't mean I can keep doing ya favors. I'm your boss first; friend second. Fondnesses aside, I'm goin' to get what I want by the end of the day."

Draco just stared at him. He wasn't going to fight it. He wasn't going to argue or agree or throw himself into it. None of those sounded appealing. What sounded appealing was just going back to life before Harry Potter - when he was broken and reserved and just..._did_ things because Scabior told him to. That was who he was. It was all he would be. He was moronic to ever think otherwise.

"Take a seat, Draco," Scabior said, patting the space next to him. "You're no fun anymore. You used to be the funniest bloke in the business." He grinned. "We can still talk, love, right?"

Again, Draco said nothing. He just took a seat next to his boss; he didn't even glance in his direction.

"Draco." Again, he didn't look at him. "Look at me." He kept his gaze fixated on the floor. "Draco!" Scabior's voice turned harsh, commanding, almost cruel, and this time Draco turned his head. "Damn it, Malfoy, I'm rather fond of ya and you're damn good at what you do but I am your _boss_. Just because I made you dump your little boyfriend doesn't mean you can turn into a bleeding mess!"

"Well _sorry_," Draco hissed, and he could once more see the anger spark in Scabior's eyes. "It's not exactly easy, believing in something like I did and then having it ripped away."

"Yeah? I thought someone with your past would be used to that."

That stung. Low blow - but honestly, what was he expecting? It was Nick he was talking to. "I thought so, too."

"When did you turn into such a girl?" Draco glared at his companion, but Scabior just sneered. "I'm serious, mate, you used to have some dignity-"

Draco snorted. "Dignity! I haven't had dignity for years, as you bloody well know-"

"Well you didn't used to _bleed feelings_ either, love. You sulk around and fuck men and sleep, and that's all you do. You used to have _life_-"

"You mean I used to have sex with you, too!"

"Well that's showing that you have _life_ if that's what you're on about! I'm not some bloke who pays for you, I fuckin' _made_ you. I own you, and I'm done sittin' here pityin' you instead of treating you like I'm supposed to. If I want to _fuck_ then we're gonna _fuck_ and you're gonna stop your bloody _moping_ and do it. Pardon me for tryin' to take the nicer route first to stop your bloody crying."

"I do not _cry_," Draco mumbled, but it was honestly all he had to say. Scabior was right. This was his _job_ and he was talking to his boss. Promises or not, Harry said he'd be back in a week and it had been a _month_. Whatever they had told one another...it was broken now. He was free to do what he wanted. If Scabior wanted to shag him until they both collapsed, he had that right. He had always had that right. He'd said it himself - Draco was his.

"Now you can make this easy on us both and just...give in to temptation," Scabior said quietly but sinisterly, leaning forward toward Draco's ear. "Or, we could do this the 'ard way. I don't care which you choose, love. I'll take it either way." Then he leaned forward more to bite lightly on Draco's earlobe. His breath hitched and his heart pounded - what would Harry think? What would Harry do if he saw this? Why did Draco still even care? - but he didn't pull away. He had to make a decision. He tried waiting, he tried believing, and he came out disappointed. Maybe it was best to just...

Give in.

And he did. He let himself get pushed, let himself be turned over, let himself get thrown over the arm of the couch. And he let Scabior touch him, let him place a hand on his hips to balance himself, let him pull on his belt and unbuckle his trousers, let his fingers slide beneath the fabric of his pants to touch him, let him press against him and whisper filthy, empty words into his ear. And he just gave in; he took it. He just stared out the window and imagined he was somewhere else like he always did, imagined that it was _anyone_ else. He tried to think that maybe it was Harry, Harry playing some sick roleplaying game with Polyjuice Potion because Draco had always teased him about secretly being kinky, and then...then he thought he could imagine Harry Apparating in front of his flat, walking up his drive, coming at last to rescue him from his job. He could see the determined look in his eye, the tense set of his jaw, the way he jammed his hands deep into his pockets like he always did when he had to do something tough, the way he would ruffle his hair and gather himself just steps away from the door, preparing himself for an explanation, to tell Draco why it took so long...

And when Scabior started to pull his trousers down, Draco realized he wasn't imagining things. He wasn't viewing some figment of his imagination, some pointless dream. There was Harry, staring determinedly at the door, readying himself for what he thought would be a very, very angry Draco Malfoy. That was real. _He had come back_.

"No," Draco said quietly, as Scabior continued his practiced and familiar exploration of his body.

"Hm?" It was more of a grunt than an actual statement as Scabior started on his own clothes.

"No," Draco said again, louder this time, and Scabior paused.

"Pardon?"

"I said _no_." He fought to regain himself, to grab his trousers and pull them up, but Scabior being in close proximity made that difficult. "Get off me, Nick, I'm not _doing_ this anymore."

"_I beg your pard-_"

"You can _beg_ my whatever you want, but I said _no_." He brought back an elbow that hit an unsuspecting Nick straight in the chest, and took satisfaction in the "oof" that sounded behind him. He found himself still pinned by the weight of his employer, but he could at least pull up his trousers now.

"What in the bloody _world_ do you think-?"

There was a knock on the door. "_Draco?_" Harry's voice sounded so far away, so strained, and Draco's heart ached at the sound. "_Draco are you in right now?_"

Scabior tensed, and Draco could feel it through the tight hold on his hips. "You've got to be bleeding kidding me," he said lowly, dangerously, and his fingers dug into Draco's skin.

Harry knocked again. "_Draco?_"

"I thought I told you to get rid of 'im? Did you ever send 'im that note?"

"Like a note's going to stop Harry sodding Potter," Draco said, and he didn't know if he should laugh or cry. _Harry had come back_, he had come for him, he wasn't lying-

Scabior nearly growled. "Guess we're doin' this the 'ard way then, aren't we?"

Draco's heart pounded as he felt his trousers getting tugged on again. He struggled against the tight hold Scabior had around him, but it was no use - he found himself wishing for his wand, trying to summon it with everything he had to no avail. From behind him, he could feel the wooden end of a wand pressed against his neck.

Again, Harry knocked on the door.

Thinking as quickly as he could, Draco shouted out, "HARRY, HARRY PLEA-"

The Silencing spell that Scabior cast was soon accompanied by the Cruciatus Curse and Draco's arched back as he released silent screams into the air. Taking advantage of the weakness, Scabior took the opportunity to simply spell down Draco's trousers.

"_Draco? DRACO?_" The knocking grew more insistent and then grew to pounding. "_Draco I know I heard you. Draco?_"

"Persistent little one, ain't 'e?" Scabior laughed, casting a quick lubrication charm and Draco swallowed thickly. _Come on, Potter, are you a bloody wizard or not!_

"_Draco Malfoy, open the bloody-oh, fuck it all._"

Scabior was just pressing against Draco's entrance when a large explosion blew his front door into tiny wooden splinters, and Harry ran in, eyes flashing wildly. "_Stupefy!_" he cried, brandishing his wand at Scabior and, distracted by his attempted molestation, Scabior didn't have time to grab his wand. He stiffened and fell forward onto Draco, something that wasn't necessarily desired but was much better than before. A simple Levitation charm was all it took to get him off and as soon as he was freed, Draco pulled up his trousers and jumped off the couch, horrified. Immediately, Harry embraced him tightly, pulling him into his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured quietly, placing hot and fervent kisses on every inch of his face and neck. "Draco, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me..."

But Draco couldn't find his words, couldn't bring it within himself to speak. He was just staring at Scabior's body slumped on the couch, blinking back hot tears. _That had really just happened._ It was mind-boggling. Three years with the damn man and though he had always told himself and others that Scabior could hurt them, he had never actually believed it. He had never actually thought that he had it in him to be rough or to be mean. He never had been before - a friend, he'd called himself. A bloody friend! Harry was still trying to reassure him with kisses and apologies ("Draco I'm so sorry, I should have come sooner, I should have been here.") but he couldn't bring himself to even pay him any mind. Scabior had just tried to assault him. Like he was nothing. Like he was nothing more than a dirty whore.

"Come on," Harry said suddenly, grabbing Draco's hand. "W-We have to get you out of here and him to authorities and w-we have to go...home. Merlin, home, we can call it _home_, and I meant to surprise you..."

He wasn't making any sense, but Draco didn't even care. He was given the option now to leave, to turn Scabior in to the authorities (wizard or Muggle, it didn't matter, and to be honest, he didn't care) and to be honest, nothing sounded greater.

Harry didn't leave his side the entire time. He sent a quick Patronus to the Ministry and called the Muggle police as an extra precaution. Then he squeezed Draco's hand tightly and said, "Let's go home."

Draco gave him a small, tight smile and that was all the push he needed. A familiar tug around his mid-section and the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed into a very small space were all it took to get Draco to let go and by the time they landed on the doorstep of the now-familiar flat where he had spent the majority of his affair with Harry, Draco was finally letting himself cry, great heaving sobs, into Harry's shoulder.

He was back. Finally, after weeks of lost hope, he was back.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I know, I know. "Just shut up, Renee, and let me be done with the chapter." But this is really just to say that we're going to have one more (it was two but I combined them) before I move onto editing and then the epilogue. I'll end with nine chapters - not as much as I'd like but still fitting for my first complete fic, I think. (: Anyway, thanks for reading. You guys are the best. **xo.  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

When he finally calmed down from his attack (and escape) from Scabior, Draco recalled that he was supposed to be angry with Harry. Furious, even. A _month_. An entire bloody _month_he went without a single word from him, and suddenly he thinks he can just sweep in like the hero he is and be forgiven for it? He thinks he can just come in _nearly four weeks later than he said he'd be_ and have Draco bow to him because they were in love and all of that minor nonsense?

Like Hell!

But he couldn't bring himself to act like it at first. He could nothing but sit in one of the large armchairs, hugging a pillow tightly to his chest as he stared blankly at Harry almost in disbelief. How did he always manage to appear right when Draco needed him most? How did he always manage to burst in and be the hero? And why couldn't he just be bloody _grateful_for once, instead of just angry? Because that was all he could focus on. Not that he was happy to see who he thought to be the love of his life again, not that he was thrilled to have Harry back, not that he was grateful that he had burst in like he had...but that he was furious, absolutely _furious_, that if it had taken a week like Harry said it would, they wouldn't have been in this mess at all.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, for the billionth time since his arrival. Draco felt his heart melt at the pained expression on his face but still said nothing. It was going to take more than that to get him to forgive him. "I tried to get back sooner. You...you have to believe that I did." He tried not to watch Harry's throat as he swallowed, tried not to remember how it tasted on his tongue or how it felt when he did that while Draco focused on the hallow of his neck. "What in Merlin's name was he doing at your flat anyway?"

"Don't," Draco said suddenly, angrily, with emphasis on each word, "try to turn this on me."

Harry shrank back in his own chair, looking ashamedly at his own feet. "I was just asking," he muttered quietly, childishly, and if Draco had been in any other mood, he probably would have smiled. Instead, he just gave him a cold glare. They allowed silence to take over once more.

Finally, though, Draco spoke. "You have five minutes," he said, trying to keep his voice flat and cold (and failing miserably), "to explain why you went an entire _month_ without writing to me. Five. Minutes." Harry stayed quiet, running his fingers through his hair, obviously thinking. Draco let him do so for a while before finding himself getting annoyed. "_Four_ minutes."

"I was trying to secure your place," Harry spat out suddenly. "In our world. With me. In the house where I had been living with Ginny, in the place where..." He gritted his teeth. "In the place where we conceived a child." Draco felt his heart drop. _Oh_. "Needless to say, it didn't go well and she didn't let me leave until the divorce was finalized and then there was custody shit to work out now as opposed to later and then I had to talk to the Ministry to secure your safety and everyone was being such an _arsehole_ about it and finally...finally I knew I had been away too long and I hadn't written because I didn't want anyone to track the owl to find out where you were so I just said fuck it and left. And I planned on explaining all of this in a less rushed and more detailed way and I meant to tell you that I love you and this whole pregnancy thing doesn't change a thing and I would explain every painful detail so you would know how hard I was _trying_ to get back to you but I don't have time and I couldn't get the words right if I did try and that's why and I'm sorry, Draco, I am, this is all my fault. If I had come back when I was supposed to..." He choked on his own words and again cast his gaze to the floor.

Draco took a few minutes to just...absorb all the information that was thrown at him. Harry was expecting a child - the one thing he had been dreading. He was divorced. He was working out custody. He was trying to keep Draco safe. That's why he was gone for a month. He didn't want him found so he didn't write. All for him. For them. For their future, so it wouldn't be tainted. Annoyed as he was, he had to admit that it was all done in extreme kindness. And probably love, too, but mostly just the pure goodness of Harry's heart which was normally repulsing but which was now just...warming.

"I forgive you," he mumbled quietly, and Harry gave him a small smile. They were healed. Well, as healed as the pair of them got.

"Your turn," Harry said after a few beats. "Five minutes. Why was Scabior at your flat?"

Draco felt his heart stop. "That's not fair."

"I told you my mistakes," Harry countered, "it's only fair you tell me yours."

"And why do you assume I made a mistake?"

"Because you're stalling. Five minutes."

"_Harry_."

"Four minutes."

"_Fine_." Draco could feel a pout forming on his lips but figured it wasn't appropriate and stopped it. "He was at my flat because you had been gone for a month, and I thought you had abandoned me and all the bloody promises we'd made. So I was going to abandon mine and just...go back to being Draco Malfoy, high class whore." He found it hard to carry on and Harry set his jaw. "But then I saw you. Walking up the drive. And I couldn't, I just...I couldn't do it, not to you, not when you came back. But Nick was...he was so _angry_..." He bit down on his lower lip and didn't say anything more. He didn't have to - Harry knew the story from there.

"You're a good man, Draco," the brunette said quietly. "I know you don't feel like it right now but you are. The purest, greatest, bravest man I've ever known. And I forgive you for letting him in. And I love you."

"I love you, too," Draco whispered back and again the two exchanged small smiles. "So this...this is home, you say?"

Harry looked relieved at the change of subject. "Yeah," he grinned. "Nice and cozy and familiar, right? Loads of good memories."

"Mm, yes, I distinctly remember you kidnapping me and tying me to this very chair."

"Something we can repeat again if you're up for it," Harry said suggestively with a smirk. Draco, however, wasn't feeling particularly sexy and his expression soon sobered up at the realization. "In all seriousness, though, yeah, this is home. I couldn't get the house I've been in since I guess _technically_ it was Gin's, too. So I just said we'd take this one to speed the process along." He grinned, wickedly. "You should have seen all their faces, though, when they realized I bought a house just to keep an affair with you. I thought Ron was going to punch me actually. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Right, the Weasel," Draco said with distaste, and Harry gave him a stern look of disapproval. "Does this mean they're not too pleased with you? Because the less visits from them I have to endure, the better honestly..."

"Are you staying then?" Harry sounded slightly surprised, like he expected Draco to run out of the house as quickly as possible as soon as conversation ended. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I'm staying, you git. Don't be daft." He threw a nearby pillow in Harry's general direction and was satisfied when it hit him in the chest. Harry laughed and hugged the cushion to his chest.

"All right, all right. I had to be sure, though, didn't I?" He paused and ran his fingers over the fabric of the pillow. "Are you okay, though? I mean...I came in before...but..."

Draco's smile faded. "Yeah," he murmured quietly, gaze flicking sporadically between the floor and Harry. "I mean, it's nothing that doesn't happen occasionally to...to people like me, you know..." They were both stony-faced now. "But I'm fine, honestly, I just...recovery period, once I sleep, uhm..." He broke off, staring down at his hands. He would be lying if he said it was the first time he was assaulted - to be honest, it happened more frequently than he liked to acknowledge, and his way of coping was always the same. He closed his eyes and put himself in a different place with a different person. It was how he got through his first night and it was how he got through his worst. That was life as a broken man, though. Once destroyed, you couldn't really get destroyed further. You just sort of..._coped _until the day came that you just faded away.

"You should get some sleep," Harry said quietly, concern etched deep into his features. Draco let out a shaky laugh.

"Yeah, I should." He paused. "Care to, uhm, escort me to the bedroom?"

Harry grinned. "Is that an invitation, Mr. Malfoy?"

He laughed shakily. "Something like that. If by invitation you mean asking you to lead me to bed since I can barely stand and then lay there until I fall asleep."

"If you didn't look shaken still, I would be giving you Hell for that comment," Harry said, shaking his head with a laugh. "I hope you know that."

Draco grinned at him. "I know. And I honestly wouldn't have it any other way." He paused. "Except if you do give me Hell for it, I'm hexing you. With your own wand at that."

"Oh, scary threat."

"You bet your arse it is."

"Hm, we'll talk more about my arse tomorrow. Come on, you. Let's get to bed."

* * *

><p>He woke the next morning to the sound of Harry snoring loudly into his ear. He yawned as his eyes slowly opened, and he blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness of the room. It was a familiar scene - the walls were an off-white with the occasional picture hanging here and there with no real stylistic positioning, like Harry had just stuck them wherever he happened to be standing at the time he decided to hang them (which was probably, in fact, what he had done). The carpet was a deep maroon, showing off the inner Gryffindor of its usual occupant, and they matched the color of his duvet perfectly. The sheets were a little lighter - more pink than red, but still disgustingly reeking of the bravery and pseudo-heroism of the inner lion. Other than that, there were few more furniture pieces in the room (there was a wooden bed stand and an accompanying wardrobe and that was it) and it was generally empty of any nick-knacks. Overall, it was not very home-like and it made Draco a little uncomfortable to be surrounded by such rival colors, but the feeling of Harry's arm tight around his waist and his warm breath on the back of his neck was enough to keep Draco there. He had Harry; he was free of what he was doing before. Things were taken care of.<p>

All was well.

And to be honest, that mattered to him a lot more than the color of the carpeting.

He shifted, pulling the covers up over his arms to keep from getting too chilly, and the movement seemed to wake the snoring beast behind him. The snoring stopped with one final, ugly snort and Harry's hold tightened for a moment as his body tensed for a yawn. "Good morning, sleepy," Harry murmured, snuggling into the back of Draco's neck, and the older man shifted again and tried not to smile too brightly. He wasn't a morning person, after all, and he wasn't going to change that for Harry bleeding Potter.

"Speak for yourself," Draco said, his tone teasing. "I wasn't the one snoring the day away just moments ago."

"I do not _snore_," Harry said indignantly, and he wriggled closer to Draco with a grin, resting his hands on his stomach.

"You do, too. You're like a dragon. You talk a lot, too."

"I do _not_."

"Well you make all sorts of noises..."

"Hmm, and whose fault is that?" Harry said, his voice low, as he pressed a kiss to Draco's neck again.

"It's too early," the blond griped, swatting at Harry's head. "But it's hardly my fault you dream about me. It's sort of a genetic thing. I can't help it."

"Right, genetic thing..." The swat to the head honestly did nothing to stop his advances. He brushed his lips along Draco's neck and jaw line, coming to a rest at his earlobe, which he nibbled lightly while Draco squirmed next to him.

"_Harry_..."

"Yes?"

"I haven't even had my morning tea yet, you prat. At least let me wake up before you try to shag me."

"But _Draco_," Harry said, returning the yawn and burying his nose into his neck, "you look so damn _shaggable_ lying there with your bedhead-"

"Not helping your case any there, Potter."

"-and your morning sass." He pressed another quick kiss where Draco's jawline met his neck and then whispered into his ear, "What if I let _you_ shag _me_ this time around?"

"You can. And will. After I've had my tea." He pulled away from Harry's embrace and tried to ignore the frustrated (and adorable) whimper that escaped Harry's lips as he did so.

"You never let me have my fun," he mumbled quietly and then he reached beside him to grab his glasses. Draco grinned.

"Of course I don't. Then I'd lose the upper hand."

"What upper hand? You're the obvious bottom here."

"Only because I was _used_ to it," Draco shot back. "Now, though..."

"I know that tone, Draco Malfoy. Don't even think about it."

"Oh shut up and bottom, Harry."

Lust flashed in the brunette's piercing green eyes. "Right now?"

"No, after tea." Draco laughed at the disappointed frown he got in response and kissed Harry's forehead. "If you follow me into the kitchen, you might get a nice morning snog."

That seemed to perk him up. "Yeah? You think?"

"I said _might_, Potter, and don't you forget it." Harry laughed, but despite all his whining about not getting his morning sex, he followed Draco anyway, slowing his trip to the kitchen by holding onto his waist and pulling him back into him at every opportunity he got. But Draco didn't complain, annoyed as it made him. He didn't even frown.

Because it was his first morning as Potter's official partner - _boyfriend_ Harry had called him when they'd gone to bed that night, but Draco thought it too fluffy a word for two grown men - and also his first morning as a free man since the day he took the Mark when he was sixteen. It was honestly freeing, exhilarating, and exciting - he no longer had to dread working. He no longer had to fear Scabior coming and attacking him. The Ministry had picked him up quick enough and they were still awaiting an owl with his sentence, though Harry had hinted heavily at a lifetime in Azkaban when Kingsley had spoken to him about it.

And so Draco didn't spend his morning cleaning himself up and catering to his boss's needs.

He spent it in a kitchen he shared with Harry, boiling water in a kettle he shared with Harry, so that he could share his morning tea with Harry and fall even deeper in love with Harry. And even if he didn't believe in fairytales or happy endings or even that he and Harry would have rainbows and sunshine blowing out their arses, he did believe in the fact that he had woken up that morning feeling happier than he could ever remember feeling before.

And if that was the equivalent of sunshine and rainbows, well then cynical thoughts about love be damned, he was prepared for them. He would even welcome the sight of a white horse for them to ride off into the sunset on.

In the least amount of words he could think of, all was well.

It honestly was.


	9. Alternate Character Death Ending

**Author's Note:** So after rereading this (I'm still going to go through and make some edits [potentially big edits but it'll take only a few days] so never fear but I'm getting off-topic) I decided that I sort of liked a fluffy ending. I'm not doing an epilogue. Instead I'm giving the reader a new option. They can let the story end as a fluff-monster or as a tragedy. Still not marking it as complete until I have it edited and shiny and clean the way I want it to be, but...I don't know. I like this better. So. Enjoy your character death. xo.

* * *

><p>Settling in with Harry was easier than Draco had ever dreamed. Though he had always feared that this would never happen - that he'd never live a normal life, that no one would want him after he'd been broken, that he couldn't live peacefully with someone who used to be his enemy - when it finally did get around to happening, it was...easy. There were no obstacles, no loopholes, no more crazy papers to sign. He was still on his Ministry budget but mixed with Harry's money, it was enough to keep up his current lifestyle. They could stay in the house no problem because of what Harry had done before getting him. Ginny rarely (if ever) bothered them, and Harry only really left when Ginny went to St. Mungo's for her monthly check-up on the baby. And even then, he Apparated straight home afterward and made it <em>extremely<em> apparent just how much he missed Draco while he was away.

Harry, of course, had to return to work at least three times a week, though he had given himself a little vacation to spend time with his new beau and get him settled into the house. Draco, though, decided that working wasn't something he was cut out for. He still had hopes and dreams of getting his Healer's license, but he knew that was pushing it a little too far. They allowed him back into their world whenever Harry wanted to visit his friends, and that was honestly enough for him. He didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable by petitioning to become a Healer as well. He would give it a few years. Maybe then they'd be used to the idea.

What was the easiest (and most surprising) thing of all, though, was how seamlessly Draco and Harry seemed to fit together. Though they knew that they got along, they never knew quite how well. They could spend days upon days upon days with each other, never leaving the other's side for anything, and never tire of each other. They constantly griped and teased and made stupid comments and argued over dumb things, but to be honest? Neither one of them meant a thing they said, and the other knew it as well as anyone. It was just habitual to argue - and to be honest, it soothed the competitive nature inside them both to have a constant war of words and fight for dominance. Things that everyone thought would tear them apart like their paths, their sides, the brand on Draco's arm, were in fact the things that brought them closer together. They were reminders of what used to be, of the past, and of what neither of them ever wanted to attain again. They were the last shreds of their original selves that they held onto, but they helped them progress into the people they were. And they loved that about one another. It made it easier for them to grow as a couple and after just weeks, it was clear to Draco that he was going to be staying there forever. It was never going to be easy and he would probably die early from how angry Harry could make him, but it was going to be forever. It was one of those things that he just _knew_.

"Harry." Draco called out his partner's name as he opened the fridge, pushing aside bottles and cartons in failed attempts to find any real food. "Harry - when was the last time we went shopping?" No reply. Draco sighed and continued to open doors and drawers and push aside condiment containers to try to find something to eat. Nothing. He closed the door, frustrated. "Harry!"

"_What_?" the brunette mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he staggered into the room. He took frequent naps during the day when he got the chance, and evidently, Draco had disturbed one of those in his hungered state.

"We don't have any _food_," Draco sighed, leaning back against the counter. "I was just wondering when the last time we went shopping was."

Harry stretched. "Dunno," he said, scratching his stomach. "Last week...couple weeks ago...Yesterday...I don't know."

"You're so helpful," Draco responded, rolling his eyes. "Really. I'm just so lucky to have you around."

"And don't you forget it," came the tired reply, and then Harry stumbled his way over to the fridge and opened it. He shuffled around with some of the food in it before standing up straight, closing the door, and turning around. "Draco, we don't have any food."

"Really. Curious. I hadn't realized."

"Well it's true. Fresh out. Not even any milk."

"Hm." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and Harry gave him a teasing smile.

"When was the last time we went grocery shopping anyway, Draco dear?"

"Dunno. Last week. Couple weeks ago. Yesterday."

Harry laughed and walked toward him, more awake now, and he put his hands on Draco's hip and pressed their foreheads together. "Guess this means we're going shopping then, doesn't it?"

"That would be lovely, actually. I'll go grab some money."

He allowed Harry some time to get dressed and compose himself before grabbing a few Muggle bills from his wallet and stuffing them into his pockets. Then, he and Harry began their long walk down to the grocery store. Though it was easy for them to just Apparate there (there were several alleys that would be perfect points to arrive at) they rather enjoyed the fresh air. Besides that, since moving into their little house in the middle of Muggle London, Harry had taken to doing exactly what Draco had - namely, storing his wand in a box underneath the bed to get used to doing things on his own, something he had first put off as silly. But he had given in eventually, realizing that he couldn't get too dependent on magic as he had been for the past ten or so years of his life, and he did most everything on his own. Or at least, the little things, and walking a few blocks down to the store wasn't exactly what either one of them would call magic-worthy work. Besides, they enjoyed one another's company, and they gained some satisfaction in walking down the street, hand-in-hand, for the whole world to see.

"Fruits or vegetables?" Harry questioned as soon as they stepped into the store. It was something they always did - Harry liked to think of it as a game but to Draco, it was just something he had come up with to get the shopping done more quickly. One of them would pick what they were going to shop for, the fruits or the vegetables, and whoever finished their shopping first got to top that night. To him, it was nothing - something trivial. But Harry had always been competitive, and he loved the chance to try and beat Draco at anything, grocery shopping included. Some things honestly never changed.

"Vegetables," Draco said, flashing him a quick smile. "I got fruit last time, and I'm honestly not in the mood to try and determine what is ripe and what isn't."

"You're such a buzz kill, you know that? You don't even try to make it interesting." Draco laughed and kissed Harry tenderly but quickly. They were in public, after all. No need to make a scene with lots of public affection.

"I just like topping," he whispered quietly in Harry's ear, and then they kissed once more before separating, each starting on their task in hopes of finishing as quickly as possible.

Draco noticed the man as soon as he and Harry parted. He was dressed peculiarly - not like a wizard posing as a Muggle, but more in the attire he was in. Though it was warm outside, the man was wearing a long and seemingly thick coat. He had to be smoldering hot in that. But Draco tried to shrug it off. Some Muggles were just _weird_. This was something he learned early on. So he just tried to ignore him and made his way down the aisle, heading toward the back of the store to look at vegetables while Harry took care of the fruit they needed.

The man followed him to the back. Immediately, Draco's inner alarm went off. This guy was bad news; whoever he was, whatever he was after...it wasn't going to end well for Draco. He could just feel it. But he didn't say anything. He just picked through the celery, trying to find a decent stalk, glancing only occasionally at the man not three feet away. He knew him; he know he did. There was something just _familiar_ about him...

The stranger started walking toward him and Draco tensed, focusing all of his attention on the vegetables in front of him. Down the aisle, he could feel Harry staring at him curiously, but he didn't say anything. He didn't glance at him. He just held onto his vegetable. But the man didn't do anything. He just walked past him, brushing lightly against his back. When he got further away, Draco released the breath he was holding and continued his shopping. Honestly, he was just being paranoid. He needed to calm down.

That was when he heard the soft _click_, when he realized that he knew what he was going to be staring at before he even looked up. He had heard of guns before - Scabior had a few and then all the television dramas he had gotten absorbed into during his time alone in the Muggle world always had a plot where somebody ended up getting shot. But he'd never actually been this close to one, and he'd certainly never had one pointed at his chest by a stranger in a grocery store. He glanced back at Harry quickly, but his boyfriend was picking up apples and checking for bruises and didn't know what was going on. The cashier behind them was busy helping an old woman carry her bags toward the door, and nobody else seemed to notice that something criminal was about to happen before their very eyes.

_He_ didn't even realize that he knew the man's name (_Geoff,_ he recalled, _a fitting enough name for a bar man_) until he had growled, "Nick says hello," and pulled the trigger.

Pain erupted in Draco's chest, indescribable pain, like someone had cast the most painful Cruciatus curse in the world and focused it in one area. A scream was pulled from his lips but it wasn't the only one that filled the air - a nearby woman let out a terrified shriek, the cashier yelled out, "HEY," and ran after Geoff who had fled, and Harry let out a piercing, "NO," that tore an entirely new wound straight in Draco's heart. Blood flowed from the wound in dangerously large amounts, and Draco couldn't help himself from thinking that this was an experience he had had too many times before. Sectumsempra. Errands for Death Eaters. These things added up and this was just another wound that would scar and leave him more battered than he ever once believed he would be.

But this one didn't stop bleeding. There was no wizard around with experience in Healing spells - no wizard with a wand, anyway, and Draco could almost see the regret swimming in Harry's eyes at not bringing his. He dropped down beside him, holding one hand over the wound and using the other to push Draco's hair out of the way, and he kept saying the same thing over and over again. "Hang on, Draco, just hang on. I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry, I was supposed to protect you. Don't leave me, _please_, just hang on." But even before his eyes, Harry's face was beginning to blur, his words beginning to sound less and less coherent, and the pain was even starting to subside. He tried to tell this to Harry, but all that happened was a violent cough and the sudden metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. Next to him, he could hear a distinct sob.

"Draco, please, please hold on. The ambulance...I would Apparate you to St. Mungo's right now if I could, I'd break a thousand wizard laws but I can't, Draco, please. Just hold on a little longer; you can live."

He supposed he could. Muggles had survived worse. But Muggles hadn't been weakened by years of servitude, hadn't lost enough blood to practically be rid of it in their time alive, hadn't lost the will to carry on before the way he had. He was a broken man, and as golden as he painted himself for Harry to satisfy him, he knew in the end he would be the first to fall apart. He knew this was it for him. A fitting end for the son of the damned.

"Draco, speak to me, stay with me. Please, don't fucking do this."

Harry clutched at him but Draco could hardly feel him. He knew Harry was digging his fingers into his stomach, but the pain didn't quite reach his brain, and he could barely see his boyfriend's tear-stained face through his own blurred eyes. He groaned, trying to find it in himself to tell Harry that it was all right, that it would be okay, but if anything it made things worse. Harry's sobs escalated and he turned around to yell something about calling _a fucking ambulance for fuck's sake, why isn't he getting the fucking help he needs?_

"So angry," Draco mumbled, a trickle of something that had to be blood slipping down the corner of his mouth. "Always so...angry, aren't you, Potter?"

Harry turned back to him, jaw set. "You aren't going to die, Draco. We're getting you help."

Draco shook his head the best he could, which as far as he knew, wasn't really at all. "I love you, Harry."

"Why are you saying it like that? Draco, why are you saying it like those are your last fucking words? _We are not going to end like this, Draco Malfoy, don't you fucking talk like those are your last words._"

"I love you," Draco repeated, though his words were barely a whisper and the light was closing in as Harry started fading away. "I do, I love you, Harry Potter."

"Don't leave me," Harry said, whispered, begged, but Draco was already going limp as sirens sounded outside the store and the last thing he heard before he slipped away was a pleading, "Don't leave me, Draco. I love you, too. This isn't how the story ends."

But it was.

That's the funny thing about gold and pyrite. In appearance, they both seem fine, practically identical, and appear very valuable. But when it all comes down to substance and what they have left inside of them...well, gold can sit at the bottom of the ocean for years and never rust, never deteriorate, and never change. It will remain gold until it is forced to be otherwise. Pyrite, though, is brittle and worn - enough pressure will make it crumble. Water will erode it. And if it's thrown into the ocean, it will begin to deteriorate before it even hits the bottom. And then once it does, it will start to fall apart chip by chip, bit by bit...

Until it eventually fades away completely.


End file.
